Vice, Love, And Desire
by Awen Sofer
Summary: 500 years ago, before there were vampires, before there was Alucard, there existed a man known as Vlad III Dracul, Prince of Wallachia. This is where the story begins. The story about the woman who loved him before and after he became a vampire.
1. Chapter 1

This story will be a mixture of elements from _Hellsing_, Bram Stoker's _Dracula_, and historical facts about Vlad III Dracul, Prince of Wallachia also known as Vlad Dracula or Vlad the Impaler. The inspiration came from Episode IIX of Hellsing Ultimate when Alucard reverts to his original form of Vlad. Maybe I'm just weird, but I thought he was damn sexy in this form as if he needed to be anymore enticing.

* * *

Willie stoked the fire, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She checked the water in the massive cast iron pot. Bubbles formed on the bottom of the pot, rising to break on the surface. Almost boiling. Sweat trickled down her back to the soaked waist of her skirt. She had been up for hours, toiling to heat the water for a bath. It was not even her bath, but the bath for her Lord and Liege. Readjusting the pot the on the hook, she made sure to center it over the trench that led to the stone cistern cut into the floor that served as a bathing pool. Soon she would need to awaken him, her master, the Prince of Wallachia. He had just returned from a crusade a few days ago. She raised her arms upward to stretch to work out the soreness in her back. An unexpected stitch in her side took her breath away. She had been on the battlefront with him. A spear meant for him had pierced her side when she jumped in front of him to protect him. But that was part of her job, her divine calling - to be his shield and protector.

For ten years Willie had served as his squire. Only recently had they discovered she was a female. When the Prince had taken her away from her conquered and burning village, he had assumed she was a boy due to her reddish brown hair being cut short, and her clothing of pants and a loose shirt. She was ten years old at the time. Her mother had chosen to make her look like a boy to protect her; to keep her from being raped and murdered by soldiers of the army led by the legendary Vlad the Impaler. As she had matured, it had become more and more difficult to hide her true sexual identity. Then one day, almost a year ago, it had happened. One of the Generals had come to her quarters to retrieve her at the request of Prince Vlad. She was still in the middle of getting dressed when the man had walked in. Seeing that she was a woman, he tried to rape her. Discovering that she had been deceiving them all, especially the Prince, he was going to kill her afterward. However, since the man was taking so long, Prince Vlad had come to see what was causing the delay. He killed the General before any harm could come to her. The man she had faithfully served had been taken aback yet amused to find out her secret. He had muttered, "Well, this explains so much." before turning on his heel to walk away. Her master treated her no differently. She was still his servant and assistant. His wife, Ilona, however, did change how she acted toward her. Ilona watched her with suspicion and hostility. Fearing cruel retaliation, Willie drew closer to her master. In turn, he kept her by his side as much as possible. But Vlad loved Ilona with all of his heart and soul. There was nothing for Ilona to fear especially from a mere servant.

Willie tied back her hair that had grown long, cascading down her back to curl at her shoulder blades. Her master adored her long hair. Sometimes during the rare quiet times between the clashes of war, he would sit her at his feet, spreading the russet tendrils across his lap to rake his fingers through it for hours. He told her that she was his good luck charm, his calm in the middle of the storm, his anchor who kept him tied to the earth. He believed as long as she was with him, no harm could come to him. She brought tranquility to his life especially in times of inner turmoil. Hers was the voice of reason that could break through his madness to bring him down from the heights of hysteria when the bloodlust of the battlefield would overtake him. With each successive campaign to subjugate and eradicate his enemies, Ilona hated her more and more.

Tipping the mammoth pot, the muscles in her arms flexed and strained to hold it steady. The scalding water flowed through the trench to fill the carved basin. As the pot emptied, Willie had to turn it further to dump out every last drop. She grunted with the effort, her tortured muscles burning like fire. Carefully guiding the pot back to its upright position, she sighed with relief. She splashed cold water on her hot face. The chilly drops came straight from a natural spring that had been tapped and flowed directly into the bathhouse through a pipe. She wanted to bathe in the frigid water, but there was no time. The master needed to be roused from sleep.

Willie expertly made her way down the gloomy hall. The feeble rays of the early morning sun did nothing to dispel the darkness clinging to the damp stone walls. She could traverse this passage with her eyes closed since she had walked through it so many times. Strictly as a perfunctory gesture, she knocked on the bulky wooden door that could potentially embed splinters into her knuckles. The Prince had indulged in shameless debauchery to celebrate the favorable outcome of a skirmish with the Turks. Confident that he was not awake, she pushed open the door and walked inside his bed chamber. She bent to pick up his discarded clothes, following the trail to his bed where he snored like the great fire breathing beast in part of his name, Drac, the dragon. Her eyes skirted over his bulky naked body that was splayed across the bed on his belly. This was not the first time she had seen him naked, but the sight of him never ceased to be breathtaking or beautiful even when in this drunken, pathetic state. His inky black hair that flowed in waves almost to his waist partially covered his handsome face that wore a moustache and three days growth of beard. He had been celebrating his triumph for days. She had holed up in her room until the revelrie was over just like she always did. Besides, he was at home, and Ilona would be by his side. Willie was no longer needed to be his constant companion since the desire of his heart was in his arms once more.

"Master," she whispered, nearing the bed. "My Prince," she said in a normal volume. Nothing. Leaning over him, she yelled in his face, "Vlad Dracula!"

He groaned in annoyance. Willie covered her nose and mouth with her hand when he breathed into her face. He smelled awful. He stank of spirits, sweat, and sex. She hastily backed away from the bed. He grunted and snorted like a pig, rolling over onto his back with some difficulty. His manhood, long and hard, pointed straight at the ceiling like one of the poles held by the flag bearers on the front lines of battle. Apparently, he had not had enough sex to tame that beast. Taking his first morning piss would most likely solve the problem. She picked up his sword that leaned haphazardly against the wall. She made a mental note to herself to clean and shine his weapons later in the day. At the moment, she had another use for his sword. She held the weighty weapon in both hands, her fingers clasping the handle that was carved in the shape of a dragon's body. The teeth from the head of the dragon cut into her hand as she lifted the sword to poke him in the side.

"Ow!" he gasped, scratching at his side where she had jabbed him.

"Wake up, Master!" she bellowed, taking great care to set down the sword without dropping it.

"Willie," he yawned, stretching his arms over his head.

"Sir?"

"You are an irritating, loud mouth."

"I'm doing my job, my Prince," she retorted rudely.

Vlad sat up on the bed, thrusting his fingers through his shaggy hair to get it out of his face. He gave her a lopsided grin before standing up from the bed. His brown eyes that were so dark they looked black skirted over her from head to toe as he walked toward her.

Willie backed away from him, holding the bundle of dirty clothing to her chest. She did not fear him. He would never hurt her. At the moment, he appalled her. He was still drunk with the smell of Ilona wafting from his glistening, muscular body. No matter how enticing he may look with his messy hair, sleepy eyes, and raging hard on, he had been branded by alcohol and the scent of his wife as belonging to them. Her retreat from him was abruptly halted when her back pressed against the wall. Freeing her hand from under the laundry, she covered her mouth and nose again as nausea blossomed in her belly pushing bile up her throat.

"Do I offend you, my dear?" he inquired, running his finger under her chin as if she were a child to tickle. He appeared to take great delight in subtly tormenting her.

"You're revolting, Sir," she mumbled under her hand. "Your bath is ready. You need to hurry. I've been awake since well before dawn building the fire and heating the water. The least you could do is get you ass in it before it gets cold."

"Fine," he murmured, strolling over to the window casually. He opened the wooden shutters, grasping his member to aim the stream of urine out of the window. "You know, some masters would be offended with the casual way you speak to me at times. However, I appreciate your honesty and forthrightness. I never have to wonder what you are thinking. I find that comforting."

Willie rolled her eyes, turning her back on the disturbing display. She hated it when he was drunk. He could be so gross and uncouth. She hoped no unsuspecting person would be walking beneath the window becoming the tragic victim of a golden shower.

"Lead on, tiny bundle of venom and wrath," he ordered gently once he was finished emptying his bladder.

Willie opened the door, walking into the hall. Although there was not a single sound, she knew he was following her because she could feel his presence. Vlad possessed an unmistakable aura about him that could be felt even when he when he was not seen. He held an atmosphere of his own, a magnetic gravity of dominance that demanded attention and respect, or elicited fear and loathing, in an instant. She had hated him at first. He had killed her mother and stolen her away from her village. To add insult to injury, he mistook her for a boy and treated her like one. In the end, that assumption had saved her life just like her mother knew it would. In time, she grew to understand her Prince, to revere him - to love him.

Willie squinted as she walked through the narrow corridor that linked the bathhouse to the castle. The sun had gained strength as it had risen in the sky, lighting the hallway and the white limestone walls of the bathhouse with an almost blinding intensity. She dropped the clothing on the floor next to the wooden tub where she would wash them. She busied herself with laying out the sheet of cloth to dry him off once the bath was over as he descended the sculpted steps into the steaming water. At least the water was still hot. She gathered the soaps and scented oils that had been given to him as gifts by an overthrown queen whose kingdom and bed and been subdued by Vlad. Poor Ilona. Although she owned Vlad's heart, he was the sole owner of his body and had no qualms about sharing it with numerous gorgeous women. Except for her. He flirted and hinted in the relatively short time he had known she was a woman but had never acted upon his words. Perhaps that was what Ilona feared the most. Willie had the potential of stealing his heart while his body was only borrowed for a time.

"Willene, wash my hair," he demanded like a spoiled child.

She detested it when he used her real name. She regretted ever telling him. But he had been stroking her hair, and she had been half asleep. His hypnotic voice, even toned and deep timbred, had slipped right past her defenses, slick and smooth. She had willingly divulged her God given name just to hear it spoken from his alluring mouth. Pulling the back of her skirt through her legs, she fashioned herself a makeshift pair of short pants that rose above her knees. She pushed up her sleeves as she sat down on the raised edge of the bathing pool, her legs sinking into the water up to her knees. The skin on the inside of her knees and thighs tingled as he fitted his wide body between them with his back toward her. She picked up the small wooden ladle to pour water over his head. His hair was thick and unruly like overgrown sheep's wool. Her fingers attempted to comb through it, getting caught several times. Her forefinger became hopelessly entangled as she was trying to completely dampen his hair. She tugged lightly, unable to free her digit from the snarl. Then she jerked, hard. He hissed in discomfort, releasing a low groan from deep in his throat. Her belly tightened and a warmth flooded her pelvis. "I'm sorry," she breathed, unraveling the hair from her finger.

"It's all right," he panted. "I like it."

_Oh, dear God, help me, _she silently prayed, closing her eyes. Her eyelids slowly lifted when she felt him moving between her legs. He had turned to face her, and two limitless brown-black irises held her eyes captive. Shiny pearls of water dripped from his chin onto her shirt making her nipples constrict with painful intensity. Leaning close to her, so close she could feel tendrils of his body heat licking out to warm her skin, yet he was not touching her.

"You've become quite the lovely lady, Willene," his voice resonated from the depths of his chest. "How old are you now?"

"I'll be twenty-one next month, Sir," she returned, raising her hand to press it against his cheek. The black stubble on his lightly tanned cheek had grown enough to be silky soft under her fingertips. To kiss him, all she would have to do would be to incline her chin at the slightest angle. But she would not. As much as her heart ached to be his, as much as her body burned to be taken by him, she would not allow herself to encourage it. Although Ilona abhorred her and mistrusted her, she would not betray her mistress and the woman who held Vlad's heart in her hand.

"You've grown up right under my nose. The person I thought was an admirable and courageous young man has become a splendid, strong willed beauty," he complimented her, grazing the tip of her nose with his. "I will give you a special present on your birthday."

Willie sucked in air, the sound hitching then wavering as she completed the inhalation. Her heart beat in her ears like the deafening drums of war that pounded out a cadence on the battlefield. "My Prince, are you issuing a threat or a promise?"

"Take it as you want it, my precious and loyal servant."

Oh, she wanted it. But the time had not yet arrived for her to take it.


	2. Chapter 2

Willie tried not to gawk while Vlad stripped off his shirt to bare his torso. She liked the way his upper body formed an inverted triangle starting at his wide shoulders. His broad chest graduated downward to hard and defined abdomen that tapered to a slim waist. His straight, narrow hips were encompassed with deer hide leather pants that had been tanned to a soft, velvety finish and dyed black. Her eyes roamed over his solid pectorals that were nicely tanned from spending many days sparring in the sun to stay prepared for close combat. Fine black hair sparsely covered his chest, forming a line down the middle of his belly to disappear under the waistband of the pants sitting just below his pelvic bones. He flexed the firm muscles of his chest when he caught her gazing at him causing her to bite her lip and look away. Heat crept up her neck to her cheeks making sweat break through the pores under her nose. The day was hot, and it had just gotten hotter. Adding embarrassment to the oppressive heat made her wonder if she was going to melt. She lowered her eyes to drag the already sufficiently sharpened blade of the knife across the wheel shaped grindstone sitting on the table. Soap, a bowl of water, and a cloth were laid out on the table as well.

There was a ball at the castle tonight so Vlad had requested to be shaved for the festivities. Willie was more than thrilled to fulfill his petition to remove the awful beard. His facial hair had grown out to form a bushy mess that marred his comely appearance.

Vlad plopped down in the plain, straight backed wooden chair that the kitchen servants had brought out along with the table. Willie combed her fingers through his unruly ebony waves, gathering the mass of hair in one hand. She did not want his hair blowing into the soap on his face where the strands would stick and be cut off. Her eyes searched the table for a strip of ribbon or cloth with which to tie back the ponytail that was thicker than her wrist. Finding nothing, she reached up to impatiently snatch the ribbon from her own hair. Once his hair was secured, she twisted hers into a knot at the base of her neck to keep it out of her face. She picked up the knife while grasping a tuft of the overgrown beard in preparation to cut it off. They had been away from the fields of battle for three weeks. The ball tonight was being held because they would soon be returning to the fight. Her birthday would be spent on the battlefield. She supposed in a way that would be appropriate. Her life for the last decade had been defined and shaped by the winds of war. Once the bushy beard was cut down close to his face, she picked up the soap, dipping her hands into the water quickly so she could work up a lather.

Vlad spread his legs wide to accommodate her as Willie stepped between them to soap his face. Staying focused on her task prevented her from noticing the way he was ardently examining her face. She did not see the manner in which his keen eyes followed every line of her face from her forehead down to her chin with adoration. Her eyes did not meet his as they intensely studied her unique light brown, almost golden irises that were speckled with accents of green and dark brown. She had no idea he was counting each tawny colored freckle that dotted her nose and cheeks. Instead she concentrated on positioning the knife in preparation to begin scraping the hair from his face with the precisely sharpened edge. His hands rested on her waist, pulling her close to him as she used his his ears as handles to tip his head back so she could get unobstructed access to his neck.

"Whatever you do, don't tickle me at this moment," she warned him as she pressed the blade of the knife to his throat. Pushing the blade upward, she removed the hair to reveal smooth, flawless skin.

"I trust you with my life," he murmured once the knife had moved past the edge of his chin.

"I know," she returned with a smug expression on her face. With a flick of her wrist, she flung the soap and hair from the knife before dipping it in the bowl of water.

"Hmmmm," Vlad hummed with satisfaction, a grin drawing up the corners of his lips.

"Don't smile," Willie ordered him. Smiling creased the skin around his mouth making it difficult to remove the hair without cutting him. She grabbed his ear, pulling it ruthlessly to unwrinkle the skin. When his mouth dropped open to protest, or possibly to issue a groan, she admonished him, "No talking."

By the time Willie completed the shave, there were so many clods of foamy white soap on the grass around them it looked like there had been a freak snow storm in the middle of summer. The terrible and some what unavoidable mess of the whole shaving process is why she preferred to perform it outside. She shaved him on the battlefield as well when he would take on a resemblance to a Paleolithic man. Her dashing, majestic Prince should always be at his best, even in the midst of war. At times she suspected she might be as vain Vlad about his appearance.

"My darling - "

"Don't call me that. I don't want Ilona to hear," she snapped, rinsing off the blade of the knife and purposely flinging water at him. "Especially since its not sincere anyway."

"Why do you think it is not sincere?" Vlad inquired, using the cloth to wipe the excess soap off of his face.

Willie scowled deeply at him. Clean-cut and comely once again, her eyes scanned the glorious face of her Lord in a search for any missed hair. He was annoyed with her. The tightness of his jaw and the hard stare he was giving her were silent messages that were difficult to misconstrue. She did not understand why dismissing his insincere flirtation for what it is offended him. With an insolent toss of her head, she responded coldly, "Do not call me by the same pet name with which you refer to your wife. The woman you love."

"Silly girl," he chuckled with a hint of derision in the laugh. He flung the towel at her, beaming at her when the damp fabric smacked her in the face and wrapped around her head. "What makes you think I cannot genuinely love two women at once? Are you really so childish and naive?"

Humiliation fused with the rage that had been swarming inside of her. She swung the bowl, flinging out the water in an arc that would have splashed over him had he not jumped backwards out of the way. She slammed the metal bowl down on the table, plunking the the shaving supplies into it for easier carrying. As she walked past him, she attempted to shoulder him to push him back to express her outrage. Bumping into him was like hitting a brick wall because his big body stood firm, unmoving. His hand reached out to steady her when she bounced off of his chest to stumble a few steps.

"Willene," he breathed, laying his hand on her shoulder.

Willie shrugged off his heavy hand while tears of anger burned her eyeballs to gather in the corners. Pausing a moment to restrain her emotions, she took a deep breath before looking at him with the tears still glittering in her eyes. "I may be both immature and ignorant. But one thing I do know for sure is that I don't deserve to be second best."

Willie stomped off in a huff, swiping at the tears she could no longer keep at bay. Before she was completely out of earshot, she thought she heard him say, "I never said you were second best." Maybe not. However, she was definitely second in line to be the woman most dear to his heart. Each day of seeing Ilona with him pricked at her heart. Every little display of affection and every word of love whispered between them chipped away at her mind and soul, breaking away tiny chunks to leave scars of bitterness behind. The way Ilona would make eye contact with her when Vlad kissed her neck or held her in his arms made Willie feel sick at her stomach. At times the nausea was so strong she would vomit just a little but hold it back with clenched teeth and sheer determination. She could not wait to get out of the castle and back into the fray. The blood and heat of battle called to her like a siren. There she could vent her anger and animosity. On the front lines she did not have to see Ilona's egotistical smirking face, her icy blue eyes full of contempt, or her pale blond hair that she would toss over her shoulder before laughing haughtily. An ugly, cold emotion crept inside of Willie, oozing along the edges of her psyche. She hated Ilona.

~...~

Vlad looked so incredibly fetching in his dress uniform as he stood at the front of the room greeting guests with his wife standing beside him. He still wore the red ribbon in his hair that Willie had used to tie it back earlier in the day. The ribbon matched the vermillion piping outlining the gold trim on his black jacket. The gold buttons bearing the Dracul dragon head gleamed in the light of the thousand candles that lit the room. The crisp white pants clung to his legs like a second skin, showing off the the ropey muscles of his thighs. The knee high black leather boots brought even more attention to his fantastically shaped legs. Willie could not take her eyes off of him. A bizarre but not entirely unpleasant warmth swirled and coiled in the deepest part of her body as she gazed at him with blatant admiration.

"Go," a fellow servant whispered to Willie, elbowing her gently to get her moving.

Dressed in a female servant's uniform, Willie made her way through the guests gathered at the edges of the dance floor. She carried a shiny silver tray of filled wine goblets in one hand and another tray loaded down with various bite sized portions of food in the other. At the moment, she desperately wished she had a third hand to loosen the strings of the corset that was pinching her breasts. Usually she wore form fitting but not bone crushing cotton undershirts covered by oversized poet shirts. Loose skirts that came just below her knees or tight leather pants were her typical bottoms of choice. For the ball, she had been forced to be tied up and stuffed into a dress made of an unforgiving fabric that further compressed her ribs over the corset. The voluminous skirt billowed out over her hips and flowed to the floor. She moved with cautious, measured steps so her boots would not get tangled in the hem of the dress. She curtsied and bowed and smiled like an idiot, making sure to keep her mouth closed for fear of the rude words that might fly out of it. The attendees of the ball were the nobility, the upper echelon of society, not the rough and bawdy war worn soldiers who knew what it meant to have a good time. Obviously this little soiree had been Ilona's idea, to show off her dear husband one more time just in case he did not come back from the upcoming conflict. A chill of apprehension shot up Willie's spine and slammed into the back of her head giving her an instant headache. She could not bear the thought of any kind of harm befalling her master; the prospect of his death in particular terrified her.

"Willene? Willene!" Ilona's syrupy sweet, sing-song voice cut right through the noise of the chattering crowd and four person music ensemble.

Willie barely resisted the desire to roll her eyes and groan. She also did not give into the urge to ignore the woman and walk away in the opposite direction as if she had not heard her. Looking at her master's wife, she offered her a superficial smile while emitting a growl that was lost among the noise of the people talking around her. The woman beckoned her with a wave of her hand. She inhaled deeply to shore up her resolve. Ilona was standing next to Vlad, her arm hooked through his, her body pressed to his side as they chatted with the Grand Duke and Duchess Lupei. The Duke wore a military uniform bearing the family crest of a wolf's head. The Duke, a short, fat round man with a lengthy gray mustache that curled on the ends, was a powerful ally who loaned his soldiers and weaponry to Prince Dracul when necessary. The man did so willingly, risking the lives of his men, even the life of his own son who acted as General of the troops, so he could retain his power and position in the country. Of course the Grand Duke himself never visited the plains full of heavy artillery and bleeding kinsman to fight along side them unlike the valiant Prince who fought in the name of God and country.

Willie held out the trays to offer the hosts and their upstanding guests refreshment. Her eyes met Ilona's briefly, seeing the hateful glint in the woman's washed out blue eyes seconds before Ilona's finger hooked under the edge of the tray containing the full wine goblets. For a split second, a wicked grin spread Ilona's thin lips as she tipped up the tray leaning it toward Willie. Unable to balance the upset tray since both of her hands were full, time seemed to slow down as Willie watched the tray fall toward her, the wine spilling down the front of her dress, drenching her from the neck down to her waist.

"Oops," Ilona declared with insincerity. She hid her face behind her fan but could not hide the sound of her evil giggle.

Willie could not move at first, frozen in place by disbelief of what had just happened. She stood soaked and humiliated, stupidly holding the tray of hors d'oeuvres in her other hand. Without risking a glimpse at Ilona or Vlad, she lowered her head, curtseying deeply. A knot formed in her throat, her voice quivering as she apologized. "I am terribly sorry for my clumsiness, Mistress. I will have someone clean that up as soon as possible."

"No, girl," the woman growled, scorn evident in her voice. "_You_ clean that up. Now."

Willie bit her lip, struggling to maintain her poise. Since her pride had been stripped away, she fought to keep a degree of grace that would enable her to salvage a small amount of her dignity. Seeing another servant nearby who offered her a sympathetic yet sad smile, she held out the tray full of food to the girl who was about sixteen years of age. Once that full tray had been handed over, she lowered herself to her knees with elegance. Moving cautiously since her hands were shaking, blinking back tears as she worked, she picked up the metal wine goblets one by one to set them in an upright position on the empty tray. Using the long beige colored skirt of her dress, she sopped up the merlot until there was no more of the deep crimson colored liquid on the wooden floor. The floor had been an extravagant whim of Ilona's and had cost her husband a small fortune. Willie convinced herself that her compliance to the mistress's order had been to keep the expensive wood planks from being ruined so Vlad's money would not be wasted. Standing to her feet with just a bit of unsteadiness, she looked like she had been party to a massacre due to the wine stains covering her dress. The only thing that had murdered tonight was her self-esteem. "Pardon me, your ladyship," she mumbled, barely able to speak at all due to the restrained tears that were choking her. "I will be leaving. I apologize for disturbing your party."

"What a clod," Ilona giggled as Willie walked away.

"Such a shame," the old wolf rejoined, making a tsk tsk sound by sucking on his teeth. "One would think such a pretty girl would have more finesse."

"She's a servant!" his wife, who was too thin and too loud, countered with disgust. "What do you expect from low born trash?"

Willie's steps became faster as she neared the double doors that would allow her to escape from the ballroom. She ran down the hall, passing servants carrying food and wine from the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, she dumped the empty goblets into a tub of soapy water then threw the tray against the wall to make a nerve wrenching clanging sound. She dropped to her knees and screamed, unleashing the fury that had been building inside of her.

Velika, the head kitchen servant and a kind old woman, came over to Willie who was wailing with her hands over her face in the middle of the busy kitchen. She put her arms around the distraught young woman, lifting her to feet. A gasp left her mouth upon seeing all of the red splashes on the uniform that not too long ago had been a clean, creamy beige color. "What happened, little one?"

Willie snorted, sucking the line of snot that had leaked out back into her nose. Her eyes met the watery blue eyes of the woman whose aged face resembled the pattern of a quilt. Many years of hard work had sewn each wrinkle into her skin. However, there was a light in her almost colorless eyes, a brilliant benevolence, that grueling servitude had not quenched.

"I-I-I..." Willie stammered, grunting with aggravation when she could not speak. Taking a deep breath that shuddered and skipped through her sobbing, she blurted a single word, "Ilona."

"Uh, that horrid woman," Velika groused, uttering an extensive string of curse words. She took Willie by the arm, guiding her toward the bathhouse.

"Where are we going?" Willie asked apprehensively. Servants weren't allowed to take baths in the bathhouse. They were required to go to the river to bathe. Only the Master and Mistress of the castle were allowed to have the luxury of a warm bath in privacy. Any servant caught taking a bath in there could be turned out of the household, publicly whipped, or worse, executed. Punishment, and the severity of that punishment, depended on what kind of mood the lady of the house was in that day. Willie knew her execution would be swift and would possibly be administered by Ilona herself.

"That dress is a mess, and you're sopping wet. You can't stay like that, can you?" the woman chided her, clucking her tongue as they entered the bathhouse that connected to the kitchen on one side. "There isn't enough time for a full bath, but that will do," she said, pointing at one of the large laundry tubs. "There's already water heated. We prepared it just in case her highness needed to wash off the bullshit from hobnobbing with her phony friends." Both women laughed. Velika patted Willie's cheeks, giving her a big toothless grin. "Now, you take a bath and wash off all of that shame along with the wine. You're going to be fine, little one."

"But I really shouldn't," she protested, beginning to shiver.

"Don't worry about getting caught. We'll make sure that doesn't happen," she assured her, giving her a wink. "I'll be getting back to the kitchen now."

Willie smiled as she watched the ancient woman shuffle off. She searched for the big ladle to scoop hot water from the cast iron pot to fill one of the tubs. Peeling the dress from her body, she dropped it into the pile of laundry that was nearly as tall as her. The water had cooled slightly which was good because her skin was not accustomed to being soaked from head to toe in hot water. Her hands and arms up to her elbows had grown immune to the heat due to assisting with the Master's bath and washing the laundry or dishes. The rest of her body knew only the frigid sting of the water in the river except for the rare occasion when the Prince would want her to wash his hair, and she could dangle her legs in the heated water. She cupped her hands, filling them with the hot water before pouring it over her head. Her headache began to drift away. She drizzled more water over her body, delighting in the sensation of the drops hitting her skin. A laugh unexpectedly rose from somewhere deep inside of her. The water felt good. And so did the laughter.

"Having fun?" a disconcertingly familiar male voice questioned her. Vlad stepped from the shadows in the corner just beyond the fire-pit.

"Oh, Master," she gasped upon seeing him. He seemed to materialize out of the shadows that had been surrounding him. She criss-crossed her arms over her chest to hide her breasts then pulled her knees up to provide an extra layer of protection from his prying eyes. Too afraid to stand up, not trusting her legs to hold her, she remained sitting in the tub. Her eyes glued themselves to the floor, unable to look up at his handsome face that wore a lascivious half grin as his eyes danced over her.

"I was wondering where you had disappeared to," he mused, leisurely strolling across the floor toward her. "I went to my room to see if you had fled to hide there. Then I heard splashing so I followed the sound." He knelt down by the tub, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. "And here you are."

The anger that still glowed like hot embers inside of her leapt to life to become a raging inferno. Willie slapped his hand away, glowering at him with glacier cold eyes and resentment filling her heart. "Don't touch me," she snarled, her lip sliding back from her teeth.

"Why - " He recoiled as if she had bitten him. She gave every impression that she would take a chunk out of him if he remained too close to her.

"You stood there and did nothing!" she screamed at him while he stood there blinking at her with a blank expression. Violence coursed through her, making her fingers twitch. It had been many, many years since she had experienced murderous intent toward him. At the moment, she threatened to be consumed by the desire to kill fueled by hatred. "You watched without saying a single word," she hissed, standing to her feet. She had forgotten to care that she was stark naked in front of him because she was caught in the beginning of an irrational tirade. "You allowed her to humiliate me, to mock me, to laugh at me, and never did anything!" When his eyes drifted from hers, straying down her body, she grabbed the nearby sheet to wrap it around her. She was not going to allow him to ogle her, to indulge his greedy eyes, after what he had done. Or more to the point, what he had _not _done. "Prince Vlad Dracul, the great and mighty warrior, a fearsome Warlord!" she hollered, before dropping her voice several octaves to growl through her clenched teeth, "A craven, impotent man incapable of subjugating his own wife."

Willie had pushed him too far by directly insulting his manhood. Attacking him as a coward was one thing but degrading his virility was quite another. And that he could not abide. The slap he delivered to her cheek cracked the air like a whip, snapping her head to the side with such extreme force Vlad instantly worried that he had broken her neck. He lunged toward her with the need to check her for injury. He immediately halted, refraining from touching her, when she stepped back from him with her hand held up in a stop motion. She cautiously turned her head, making sure nothing was amiss, no broken vertebrae or torn muscles, from the punishing hit. She slowly dropped her hand to her side, turning her body to face him directly. Her eyes raised from the floor, focusing on his. Her cheek throbbed, the pain sizzling down the side of her neck. But she resisted showing any signs of discomfort. Closing her eyes, she bowed deeply at the waist despite how agongizing the pain became in her face. He had brought her back to her senses, swiftly reminding her that she was just a servant. "My Lord, I beg your pardon," she apologized, bowing her head deeper. "I had forgotten my place."

Vlad stared at her without uttering a word. For the second time tonight he had been struck dumb and unable to react. If he had said something earlier, Willie would have been put in peril of dangerous, possibly deadly, retaliation by Ilona. The brutal strike he had given to his loyal, trustworthy servant was the one he had repressed from unleashing on his reprehensible wife. A sickening sensation churned in his gut. He had not meant to hit her. She did not deserve suffering the comeuppance that should have been Ilona's.

"I am the one who is sorry," he confessed, dropping to his knees in front of her.

"Master, don't!" she exclaimed, backing away from him. When he leaned forward onto all fours and proceeded to kowtow to her, she was mortified. Her belly fluttered so violently it felt like something had come alive and was crawling inside of her. "My Lord, please, please, stand up. If someone should see..."

"I don't care. I want you to believe that I mean what I say. That I genuinely apologize," he said, reaching out to touch her feet. He crawled closer to her, placing his forehead on the tops of her feet. "Please forgive me."

"Master," she whispered, touching his back. "Please, don't do this. Get up."

"Will you forgive me?" His fingers wrapped around her ankles holding onto them tightly.

"Yes, yes, of course I will," she agreed, her heart beating so fast she could barely breathe.

Vlad stood up, looking down at her. For a long moment, he gazed at her, not saying anything or moving a muscle.

"Sir?"

"I really am sorry." He had never sounded more sincere. He lay his hand against the back of her neck, pulling her forward.

Willie held her breath as his lips lowered toward her. She breathed a sigh of relief when he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. She still had not received her first kiss. There was not a single man brave enough to come close to her due to her constant proximity to Vlad. The bravest of the soldiers were not willing to risk life or limb in the name of love with the favored servant of the fierce Prince.

"I must return to the ball, my dear. Before I leave, I have a request. Do one thing for me?"

"What's that, Sir?" she asked without lifting her head to meet his gaze.

"Well, I suppose there are two things I want you to do for me," he told her, removing his hand from her neck to rest it on the hilt of the decorative rapier on his side. "The first thing I want you to do is raise your head. Look at me, Willene," he commanded her with tenderness in his resonant voice.

Willie did as she was told, lifting her chin. Vlad smiled at her when her eyes connected with his. She did not smile back. At the present time, she did not have it within her to smile, not even a forced smile of insincerity.

"The second thing I want you to do is to never let anyone make you feel like less of a human being. You're not a lowly servant. I do not know how much of your childhood, of your mother, you remember, but there is something you should know. Your mother was a Countess. You're the child of a noble. When I stole you, I took your title away from you. I am sorry about that. To keep you, I knew I had to remove your noble status. I have taken much more than I have given to you. Tonight I allowed your dignity to be stolen. Until now I have protected you from every threat except that from my own wife, your mistress. I am terribly sorry for that too."

Willie swallowed but was unable to choke down the lump that obstructed her throat. The sincerity in his eyes made her heart ache. The flames from the fire reflected in his dark irises making them appear to glow with their own reddish orange light. She flinched, jerking away from him when he extended his hand that was closed into a fist toward her. Her eyes watched his every move as each finger peeled back to reveal a silver ring in his palm. There was a set of wings, angel's wings, etched onto the simple band. Glancing at his other hand, she saw that he held out a ring, just like the one in his palm, that was secured around his neck by a thin almost invisible silver chain.

"If you want to be set free, I will set you free. I will restore your title, giving you your papers to prove your freedom and your nobility. Or," he began, hauling in a deep breath as he knelt down on one knee in front of her. "You can take this ring, pledge yourself to me as a helpmate, not as a servant. I want you to be by my side always as my companion and partner."

_Like a wife?, _she wanted to ask to clarify his intent. She glimpsed at the ring then looked back at his face. A little over a decade of her life had been spent with him. For half of her life he had been her focal point, the one constant in the ever changing world around her. He had provided for her, taken care of her. He had taught her to be an excellent and highly skilled soldier among other things. If she left, where would she go? What did being free mean? He had always given her free rein, allowing her to go wherever she wanted to go, whenever she wanted to go there. The only time she felt trapped or oppressed was when Ilona would give her orders. She only felt demeaned or mistreated when the woman would play cruel, juvenile tricks on her like tipping the tray to spill the wine on her. Her fingers shook as she reached out to take the ring.

"I had meant for this to be the surprise on your twenty first birthday," he explained. He watched her intently while she stared at the ring as if she were still trying to decide what to do. "After that little event earlier, I was afraid you would run away. I feared..." His words trailed off as he moved hastily away from her while keeping his back to her. "I was afraid you would leave me." Looking back over his shoulder, he reminded her, "The choice is yours. If you want to leave, you are free to do so with my best wishes." His voice faltered at the end of the sentence so he cleared his throat. "If you stay, you will no longer be a servant. You will be my official assistant. My helpmate."

"Helpmate," she repeated, turning the ring in her fingers as she stared at it. Mate. It still sounded too much like being a wife. He already had a wife, Ilona. If she became his wife too, she would be his _second_ wife. She clasped the ring in her palm momentarily before giving it a fling. She heard the small piece of metal hit the floor with a high pitched pinging sound before it skittered across the smooth limestone floor. "I will never settle for being second best...especially to her."

"Ahhh," he sighed, scrubbing his palms over his face as she stalked away with her head held high like a Queen adorned in a silk gown rather than a newly freed servant in a sheet. "That's my girl."

That ring had belonged to Willene's mother, the Countess Anghelescu, yet she had not wanted it as a gift from him. Vlad had spent months searching for a silversmith to duplicate the ring, to make the one for his necklace. Willie was his good luck charm after all so he wanted to have a physical representation of that. More to the point, she had missed the extremely meaningful underlying message of the ring and its copy. With the second ring, Vlad was actually tethering himself to her, pledging his loyalty and life to her rather than the reverse. But she had thrown her ring away. Vlad needed to find that damn ring.


	3. Chapter 3

Willie found it easy to stay away from Vlad the next few days. The valid reason of preparing to move out to the front lines kept them both too busy with opposing duties to be able to spend time together. Occasionally they would see each other from afar. Vlad would keep his eyes on her, watching her as long as possible before he was shuffled off to speak to the next General or sign the next official order. Willie, on the other hand, would quickly avert her eyes, avoiding looking at him at all costs. Resentment toward not just Ilona but Vlad as well still simmered just below the surface of her unemotional exterior. The opportunity had not yet come for her to release her anger stemming from the demoralizing interactions from the night of the ball. Ilona had injured her pride. Vlad had wounded her heart. Each event had been demoralizing on its own, but occurring in rapid succession, the emotional impact had bordered on devastating. She had cried all night, pouring out her heartache into her goose down pillow. The next morning, despite not having slept a single minute, she got up to prepare for another day. The world had not stopped rotating and her heart had not stopped beating so that meant she must rise up and move on with life.

Today was the day they would begin the journey back into battle. Willie was in the stable preparing Vlad's horse for departure. Wearing brown leather leather pants and vest with a cream colored shirt underneath, she had dressed for traveling. She had traded her short feminine boots for the knee high dirt colored soldier's boots with a metal shinguard attached the front. She was anxious to begin the trip.

Vlad's mammoth black steed pawed impatiently at the ground. Methuselah could feel the tension in the air. He recognized the strained atmosphere which made him antsy to get back out to the front lines. The horse had been bred and born for war. Both of his parents had been war horses. He had born on the battlefield during a lull between heated clashes. On the day of his birth, Willie had been tasked with staying behind to take care of him and his mother. Vlad had gone to the fight on foot. Although at a distinct disadvantage being without a horse, he had slaughtered his share of the onslaught of Ottoman Turks on horseback as easily as if he had been mounted on top of his mare, Seraphim.

"I know, I know," she cooed to the nervous horse, brushing through his mane with her fingers. "You're ready to get out there aren't you? Don't worry. We'll be there soon enough."

Willie heard the hinges of the barn door squeak as it opened but did not give it much thought. The soldiers were constantly coming in and out for things, including their horses. A quick tug on her braid made her gasp and jump away, bumping into the jittery horse.

Methuselah whinnied in protest, raising his front hooves off the ground. She tumbled backwards, falling into two strong arms that held her and turned to guide her out of the way of danger. Once the moment of crisis had passed, she opened her eyes to see a small triangle of golden flesh above the unlaced v-shaped collar of a snowy white shirt. Inhaling, she breathed in the scent of pine soap with hints of musky sweat. Vlad. Her body grew taut against his when his arms tightened around her to pull her against his chest. The hard muscles of his stomach contracted against her breasts as he held her securely despite her resistance.

"Shouldn't you be with Ilona?" Willie questioned him, her voice acidic.

Vlad summarily ignored her. He rested his cheek against the top of her head, refusing to let her go. He would not tell her that his wife had put herself into an unconscious stupor by using an excessive amount of her favorite herbal potion for her nerves. The friendly and always accommodating apothecary obligingly supplied his favorite customer with all of the mind altering drugs nature offered. Each request was granted in hopes of gaining some special favor from the lovely Ilona. Sex, or rather the promise of sex, was the favored weapon employed by Ilona to manipulate and control the men around her. Vlad himself was not immune to the minx and her devices. Until recently. No longer would he bend to her will to partake in her corrupted pleasures. He held a far sweeter treasure in his arms. One day, the sooner the better, he planned to take a taste of her pure, ambrosial delights.

"You are still angry with me," Vlad stated flatly, sliding his hand down her back.

"Perceptive as always, Master," she retorted with copious amounts of sarcasm. Pushing her elbows outwards, she attempted to break the powerful bear hug in which he held her. Squirming and grunting, she continued to try to free herself, all to no avail. "My Lord, please, there are still so many things to do."

"There are plenty of other servants and soldiers who can handle those things," he murmured in her ear.

Willie chewed her lower lip as his warm breath puffed across the sensitive skin below her ear. Despite the heat and humidity that swamped her, chill bumps erupted across her body making her skin tingle. Her determination to be furious with him dissolved as his slightly rough fingertips stroked the back of her neck giving her an enticing tickle. Her body rebelled against her, relaxing into the hardness of his chest and arms.

"I want to give you something," he whispered, reaching into his pocket.

The elation that sparked her interest immediately fled upon seeing the silver band held between his lengthy, elegant fingers. She jerked away from him, putting at least two feet of distance between them.

Vlad pulled back his hand, safely nesting the ring in his fist when she took a swipe at him to knock the ring away.

"I told you that I don't want your damn ring," she sneered, turning her back to him.

"It's not my ring," he informed her. "It belonged to your mother, Countess Anghelescu."

"My mother," she gasped, whirling around to look at him. Her eyes focused on the ring he held out to her between his thumb and forefinger.

"Your mother," he confirmed, closing the distance between them with just two steps. He corralled her against the thick support beam behind her.

Willie pressed her back into the rough-hewn wood. Her leather vest prevented the large splinters from poking her in the back. Her eyes lowered from his, unable to maintain his penetrating gaze. His breath blew lightly across her cheek while his long hair shifted forward to make curtain around her face as he inclined toward her.

"Please, take this ring. It is your birthright. A testament to your real place in this society," Vlad patiently explained as if she did not understand the concept of the nobility and their love of symbolism. Vain, ostentatious aristocrats made it a point to tout their emblems signifying social status, family names, or their vast wealth - sometimes all of the above. Vlad wore the motif of the dragon proudly having it emblazoned on everything from pennants to horse blankets, shields to uniforms. He carried the image of the dragon into battle to announce to the enemy that Vlad III Dracul of Wallachia had come to take over their lands, convert them to Christianity, and kill them if they resisted. Baptized in blood and burning with a righteous flame, he was a champion, a crusader for God. How he justified his vices of wine and women was a mystery to Willie, but she never questioned him. Like a good soldier, she followed her leader with implicit, possibly blind, loyalty. Like a good servant, she served her master with unwavering allegiance.

"Does it really matter that I'm a Countess? It's a useless title that has no real meaning or function. What do I need it for?" Willie's eyes moved over the ring held securely between his fingers. "What use do I have for a pretty piece of silver and a powerless social epithet?"

"You really are a stubborn one," he sighed hinting at the annoyance that rippled inside of him. His big hand encompassed hers, bringing it up between them. He slid the ring onto her finger the way a man does during a matrimonial ceremony when imparting a token of his eternal love to his wife. Last night, he had searched for hours in the dim light, crawling on his hands in knees in search of a glimpse of the ring, hoping for a glimmer of light reflecting off of the small silver band. At last he had found the ring in the ashes piled in the fireplace where the servants heated the smaller pot of water used for laundry. Once the ring was placed on her finger, he slid his finger under her chin to tip her head upwards.

Willie found herself having no choice but to look into his hypnotic eyes. She could lose herself in those eyes. The dark pools of color that seemed to be an entrance to an endless universe. His eyes held the promise of a place where she could be with him for an eternity. In that place there was no war, no pointless titles, and, most importantly, no Ilona.

"Take the ring, Willene. It is the last piece of your mother left on this earth," he said, lowering his lips closer to hers. "Take it as a symbol of my affection for you."

Willie concentrated on keeping her breaths even and normal, although her chest tightened around her lungs giving her the impression she might hyperventilate. Her fingers clutched the soft folds of his shirt as she watched his eyelids lower, shutting her out of the world beyond their limitless depths. She closed her eyes in expectation of an innocent kiss on her forehead. The air deserted her lungs when his lips touched hers. Dizziness made her head swim as his lips brushed over hers with a feathery movement. Encouraged by her lack of violence, Vlad fitted his lips to hers for a more passionate kiss. To his pleasure and surprise, she kissed back, pushing her lips tighter to his. This was her first kiss, a precious, once in a lifetime experience. Vlad wanted the kiss to be like her: short, modest, and cultivated. He treated her first kiss with the respect it deserved making it tender, ardent, undemanding, and unforgettable despite its brevity. After his mouth lifted from hers, her eyes remained closed to allow her to savor the delectable sensation on her lips. Her shaking fingers moved delicately over her lips that continued to prickle with excitement as if miniscule flames were dancing over the tender skin.

The barn door hinges screeched in complaint when they were thrown open with undue force. The doors were old and weathered, dry and flimsy, so it did not take much strength to open them.

"Sir!" bellowed General Gannon Lupei, the Grand Duke's son. "The men are ready. We are awaiting your orders."

Willie used the moment of distraction to slide under Vlad's arm to free herself of his stifling presence. He had been strangling her with brute sex appeal, killing her with desire. She brushed the hair back from her flushed face as she struggled to get her trembling under control as she set about saddling up Methuselah. Seraphim would need to be haltered and saddled as well so they could ride out.

"Go wait for my orders at the castle gates. Double check provisions and weapons while you are waiting," he commanded the general.

Vlad viewed Gannon Lupei as a necessary evil because he did not like the man at all. He needed the Grand Duke's army to supplement his forces. The son came with the army as the General or there was no army was the stipulation set by his father. It was a worst case scenario of nepotism. Fortunately, the younger Lupei could hold his own in battle, wielding a mace and battle ax with great and merciless precision. However, the boy had wandering eyes and his eyes strayed to Willie far too many times. Vlad abhorred the young man greatly for taking an interest in Willie. As of yet, Gannon had not acted upon his desires, restricting himself to sending silent signals through yearning looks and charming smiles. Vlad never saw the irony in the fact that he mistrusted and detested the young General for taking an interest in the woman that he himself had no business pining for considering he had a wife. However, Gannon had no such attachments or restraints. He was actually at the age he would be searching for a suitable wife. Vlad would never admit to feeling threatened by the young wolf.

Willie ignored Vlad when he entered the stall where she was slipping the bit into Seraphim's mouth while pulling the straps of the bridle over the pure white horse's ears that flicked back and forth. For an old girl, a long time war horse and mother several times over, the horse was still quite lively and alert. Once Methuselah, her first colt, had been old enough and big enough for Vlad to ride while in full armor, he had taken that horse and passed Seraphim to her. She did not mind. She loved the snowy horse with the gentle disposition and stubborn will. Vlad had said the horse was a lot like her so they were meant for each other.

"Willie, what do you think about Lupei?" Vlad inquired, kicking at the hay around his booted feet.

"I try to avoid contemplating the trivial matters of life," she responded curtly. Her brusque reply elicited a laugh from Vlad, a deep rich sound that rolled from his thick chest and tickled her ears. She knew what her master had been hinting at but refused to answer the question born from a jealous heart.

Gannon Lupei could not be more different from Vlad. Barely reaching five feet and seven inches, he was much shorter than Vlad's imposing six feet and four inches. With a lean body, he was nothing but toned muscles stretched over bones making a straight line from head to toe. He wore his pale blond hair short, so short that it stuck straight up from his head on top. His eyes were big and round, blue as a vast summer sky. He smiled easily and often. His thick bottom lip gave the appearance of pouting when he was not smiling and deep in thought. From an aesthetic standpoint, Gannon Lupei was beautiful. Hands down he would be a more artistically pleasing subject than Vlad due to his effeminate prettiness. Willie actually had no feelings about him one way or another besides viewing him as a remarkable soldier. His sapphire toned eyes did make her heart flutter sometimes when she would accidentally make eye contact with him. She would never be so forthcoming or foolish as to admit that to her master.

"You would tell me if you were interested in him, wouldn't you?" he persisted. Vlad assisted her with lifting the saddle onto Seraphim's back. He had incorrectly assumed that she had staggered under the weight of the saddle. In fact, she had stumbled in reaction to his question. How dare he ask her such a thing.

"Is it really your concern?" she retorted, bending down to buckle the strap under the horse's belly.

"I would like to know. I should know because - " Vlad stepped back when she unexpectedly shot straight up to a standing position glaring at him so hotly that he could feel the heat from her eyes.

"Why?"She patted the horse on the neck who whinnied apprehensively. The horse could sense her anger and did not like it. "What explanation do I owe if I do become interested in another man? Especially now. Am I not a free woman? Not just that, I am a Countess, correct?"

"Correct," he returned, turning his back to her to walk over to Methuselah who was scratching at the ground with his hoof again.

"He's ready to go. We should leave. The others are waiting for us," she declared, swinging herself up onto the back of the mare. Giving the horse a quick jab in the flanks, she shot out of the stall running through the open stable doors at full gallop.

There was so much more Willie could have said. More vehement protests and more arguing would not have done any good. The words would have bounced off of Vlad's thick skull without him ever attempting to actually consider their meaning. Although her attachment to him extended beyond the normal boundaries of that of servant and master, at least one of them had to draw a line somewhere. That person would not be Vlad. Due to his inability to control his inappropriate affections, he had made Willie a victim of his wife's wrath. She was not unaware of that truth. Hating the man she would die for, however, was something that she could not bring herself to do. This did not keep her from spending an inordinate amount of her time being angry with him.

Willie reined in Seraphim as she neared the throng of soldiers on horseback waiting at the front gates of the castle. Her eyes scanned the men until they landed on a tow headed man with brilliant blue eyes. She weaved her horse through the men who created a path for her as she directed Seraphim in the direction of the fair haired, fair skinned General wearing white linen garb and sitting on a medium sized dark brown mare. A smile spread her lips as his cheeks warmed from their constant healthy pink coloration to a deep red, almost purple, blush as she advanced toward him. With a nod, she greeted him with a pleasant, "Good day, General."

"Miss," he returned with a nod of acknowledgement.

"Would you be opposed to me riding with you today?" she inquired, sidling up next to him. Seraphim nudged his horse's nose with hers in a equine hello.

"I have no objections," he answered with a flash of teeth in his smile. "Does anyone have any complaints about this young lady riding with our battalion to the front lines?"

"No, sir," his men answered in a solitary, unified voice.

Vlad scowled at her as he rode past to move to the front of the legion of soldiers. Today he would be leading them out to the front lines without his ever present and faithful servant by his side. He did not like this. He did not like this at all.

Willie watched as the soldiers filed past her and out of the gate. She and Gannon would take up the rear guard. Her fingers tightened around the spear she held at her side. Her weapon of choice in the battle, the spear had a twelve inch, double edged spearhead that could cut through tender flesh and rigid bone alike with ease. Vlad also favored spears as well. He preferred to use them as a finishing method, skewering his victims then planting the other end in the ground to leave his vanquished enemies as a macabre garden of death trees for the world to see and fear him. When the last soldiers had crossed the drawbridge, Willie turned her horse to follow them while Gannon followed suit staying alongside of her.

"Are you upset with your master?" he asked with shocking candor.

"Yes," she replied truthfully and succinctly.

"I can't say I blame you after that scene at the party," Gannon said. When she did not respond except for a bright pink color tinting her cheeks under her eyes and her lips flattening into a thin line of anger, for some reason he thought he should continue speaking. "You do know that it's his fault that she hates you. He uses you to make her jealous."

"What makes you think that you can speak to me in such a brazen manner, General?" she demanded, pulling Seraphim's reins to halt her.

"Nothing really," he admitted, leaning forward on his horse. His lips tilted sideways into a self-satisfied grin.

Willie wanted to slap him. Her fingers twitched then curled more firmly around the reins and handle of the spear. "Then why do you do so, young master?"

Calling him young master offset him. Willie wanted to laugh at the way he blinked in befuddlement and was no longer able to find anymore insulting words.

"Hmph," he muttered, nudging his pretty bay mare in the flanks to get her moving.

"Hmph, indeed," she mumbled to herself, following after him. They rode in silence for a while, the sun beating down on their backs and heating their skulls until it felt like their brain might boil. Then he began talking again.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"No," she answered a little too quickly. She cleared her throat and added, "I don't have time for such silly things."

"What a pity. You must have a terribly harsh master that you don't even have time for the silly things of life," he returned, giving her another self-righteous smirk. "There's nothing wrong with finding someone to be silly with. It's actually quite fun. It's the trivial things that make life worth living."

Willie nearly fell of her horse at the last statement. If she did not know better, she would swear he had been eavesdropping at the stable and was now making a pitch to her to be her boyfriend by using her own words against her. She straightened herself in the saddle, stiffening her back to maintain an air of aloofness.

Gannon and Vlad did share a few similarities. They shared the abilities to disarm with a smile and aggravate with just a few well chosen words. They both loved women and hated each other. Willie was sure the exact reasons they hated each other was for the personality traits and vices they had in common. Willie became entrenched in her thoughts, comparing the two men to pick out their likenesses. Her list was becoming quite extensive when her riding companion interrupted her thoughts.

"It's a three day journey. It's going to be extremely long and boring if you don't talk to me," Gannon said, almost pleading with her.

"Perhaps you talk too much, Sir Lupei. Didn't you ever hear silence is golden?"

"I also heard that a quiet woman is most likely plotting some man's murder. How much truth is there in that adage?"

Willie laughed. She could not help it. There was a disturbing amount of truth in his statement that made it somewhat comical. If he continued to talk so flagrantly, she would be plotting his murder.

"So what do you wish to talk about?" she inquired with a sigh of resignation. Apparently he was not going to leave her alone. Although she could move up to ride with someone else, someone who would most likely hold their tongue, she found his idle banter a pleasant distraction in a way. Although he was irritating her with his brash words, she found him amusing her at the same time. Her only other option would be riding next to a sullen Vlad who would leave her alone to stew in her potentially poisonous thoughts. Besides, she was angry with him at the moment and did not want to be near him. How dare he act like she belonged to him and was not allowed to show the slightest bit of interest in another man.

"You're not using me to make Vlad jealous are you?"

_Oh, dear God in heaven above, please help me to NOT kill this man, _Willie prayed silently. She rolled her eyes and turned her head to look at him. He was gazing at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes that made their cerulean blue shade shimmer. He was purposely trying to get a rise out of her like a young boy irritating his little sister. Fine. She would allow it. But she would not give into his childish manipulation. She would not disparage her master, no matter how much he might deserve it, in front of this man.

"No. I'm not. I just thought you might be a good riding companion considering that you are his most trusted general." She had not spoken a flattering lie. Out of all of the generals in his combined army, Vlad did in fact trust Lupei the most with the soldiers. In the realm of war strategies, they were of the same mind. They were both cruel and ruthless, ready to sacrifice everything to win the battle for their cause. They also shared the same approach to conquering women which was why Vlad detested Gannon as a man.

"I'm glad to hear that," he responded, reaching over to rest his hand on hers that gripped the spear.

Willie's head whipped toward him, holding his gaze momentarily before glimpsing at their hands. He had big hands. His wide palm and stout fingers engulfed her whole hand that was wrapped around the spear. Vlad had big hands as well but with long, thin, almost delicate, fingers that were only slightly roughened from hard work. Gannon's bore thick, hard callouses from shoeing his own horse, sharpening his own weapons, and doing the many things that all of the soldiers did. He did not have servants or helpers - or Willie. However, he seemed to want to remedy being amiss on the last one.

"I like you, Willie. I have watched you in battles, and it's like watching a dance. You have just as much grace and refinement during combat as you did at the ball the other night. I admire you greatly."

Willie gulped audibly as his eyes held hers captive. She had not even noticed that their horses had come to a stop. Her belly flipped and flopped uncomfortably. A sick, hot feeling enveloped her. She felt guilty. Why the hell did she feel guilty? She was not Vlad's wife for God's sake! Only his servant. But she was no longer his servant either since he had set her free. And Vlad had a wife. A wife who hated her because Vlad allowed his eyes and hands to stray far from his jealous wife. It did not seem to matter to Ilona that Willie had done nothing to purposely gain his attention and was doing nothing to keep it. Would Ilona leave her alone, stop torturing her needlessly, if she had a boyfriend? But what would Vlad think? Sweat slid down Willie's back making her shiver despite the heat. The trickle of wetness down her spine had felt like an accusing finger scraping along her nerve endings. She could almost hear Vlad's voice in the back of her head, _You're thinking things you should not be thinking, my sweet Willene. How could you betray me in such a way? _Was it really a betrayal? She was not married to Vlad. He had no real claim to her at all anymore since he had willingly set her free. She had made the choice to stay but not to remain as his property. Her role had changed in that she would serve him as a soldier, a loyal subject, but not to be completely controlled like a slave. Shaking her head, she realized she was getting too far ahead of herself and reading too much into one small touch, a simple look, and a few pretty words.

"Thank you," she choked out at last, lowering her eyes to break the gaze that had become disconcerting for her. Drawing her hand out of his, she repositioned the spear to rest it against her knee while she held the reins with both hands. She urged Seraphim to walk so she put a little distance between herself and Gannon. "We need to stay on guard. There could be an ambush set for us any where. We can't be too careful."

"You truly are a divine soldier," he complimented, his horse cantering behind hers.

"Willie!" Her name was being shouted by Captain Drake Vogner. Although the man was around the same as Vlad, he looked so much older with his gray hair and grizzled appearance. Scars criss-crossed his face that might have been handsome once. His nose had been slightly flattened from all of the fist fights he had endured. Most of those fights had been with his own soldiers during drunken brawls at taverns instead on the battlefield during conflicts with enemies. He turned his brown stallion to ride along next to her. "His highness is calling for you. He wants you to ride beside him."

"Why?" she petulantly demanded. She saw the man's his lips compress with annoyance at being asked such a question. He adjusted the eye-patch covering his missing eye that had been gouged out during their last confrontation with enemies. He was not interested in getting tangled up in their messy quarrel.

"Because that's where you belong. Follow me," the Captain commanded her.

Willie had no choice. She had no rank as a soldier so on that basis alone she had to follow the Captain and acquiesce to the orders of the High Commander of the army. Without glancing at Gannon, she flicked the reins to spur on Seraphim. She was thankful that the heat had turned her face red so her blush of indignation was hidden. Although she had been given some freedom, Vlad could still order her around as a soldier. Using his power and influence this way did not surprise her. His misuse of his rank to command her to be by his side was just a tad juvenile. She would follow him anywhere without being forced to do so. All he had to do was simply ask.

"Willene," Vlad greeted her coldly, his voice an angry rumble like thunder that announces an oncoming storm.

"Sir." She positioned her horse next to, but just behind, Methuselah. Willie knew she did not ride beside him. Even as a Countess, she was not his equal. She did not stand on equal ground with him in rank or social status. She sighed noisily.

"How is the young Lupei?" he questioned her, glancing at her briefly. She refused to look at him.

"He is doing well, my Prince," she answered the peevish question. Oh, how these two men loved to play their games. She could play as well. "He sends his best regards to his Prince and Commander. He wishes you well in the battle to come and vows to stand loyal and ready by your side."

"Hmph," he snorted in disgust.

A titter of laughter escaped Willie. So many things in common. They even made the same irksome sound to display their vexation. They also both had a talent for withdrawing laughter from her despite how exasperated she may be with them.

"Prince Dracul," she began knowing she was venturing into dangerous conversation territory. "Do you use me to make Ilona jealous?"

"What are you suggesting?" he queried, pulling his horse back to be right alongside her.

Willie took a deep breath as his dark eyes drilled a hole into her skull as if he could reach into her head to find the answer himself. Allowing her eyes to meet his briefly, she immediately looked away, pretending to scan the area around them for thieves or murderers.

"What I mean is, are you using me as a way to draw her to you, to stir her interest and keep her wanting you even though you have had numerous affairs?" she asked.

"You really do speak too plain sometimes," he admonished her, riding ahead a few steps.

"There seems to be a rash of that going around today," she retorted with her signature sarcasm.

Vlad did not say another word, giving Willie the impression that he had decided to ignore her completely. She began to relax, thinking he was going to brush aside her overstepping the boundaries between them. Sometimes there seemed to be no place, no action, no conversation, that was off limits so she really was not sure where the line lay which made it impossible not to cross. It was not fair that Vlad reserved to right to move the relationship boundary of politeness between them as he wished. However, he had always done so. Her body immediately tensed from head to toe when he began to speak.

"Maybe I do, Willie," he confessed. "I assure you I was not intentionally doing so. I was merely expressing how I feel about you. Unfortunately, I never took into consideration how my wife would feel about that. Or how she would seek retribution for the slight I had given her. I apologize, my dear. I will try to refrain from doing so in the future."

Willie grasped the reins with such a forceful grip her knuckles began to grow pale. As of late he had become extraordinarily forthright and truthful, even to his own detriment.

"You've been terribly apologetic lately," she noted with a little too much frankness.

"Willene, my dearest girl..." He paused, giving her a thorough once over as she sat straight and tall on the white mare. She had become a true lady, bearing her title well despite just having it returned to her. "I suppose I should say woman," he corrected himself before continuing, "recently you have set in motion a disconcerting trend in my thought patterns. You are making me realize that I have not treated you with the respect you deserve, therefore, I am attempting to make amends."

"Oh?" Her heart soared out of her chest. Willie could not help but ponder if he intended to rectify his behavior in all areas including putting his hands, and in a new develop of inappropriate behavior, his lips, where they did not belong. However, sublime her first kiss had been, especially since he had been the one to administer it, she could not escape the fact that it was still wrong because he was a married man. Vlad seemed to be too forgetful of his marital status. However, his wife would never allow Willie to do the same. The kiss had been innocent enough. The emotions, the love he held for her that prompted the kiss, not so much. No matter how much she did not want to, no matter how he infuriated her, she loved him back.

"As far as the other women go - "

Willie wished that he would stop talking before he ruined the elation she was currently experiencing. In her mind, she had purposely set aside the instances when he had been a shameless lecher and hopeless philanderer. Despite all that, he was going to keep talking and make her ascending love come crashing back to earth.

"I was merely doing what I needed to do to exert my dominance as their conqueror."

_Lord, please help me, _Willie prayed with all of her heart_. "I know murder is a sin, but just this once..." _

From the beginning, she knew better than to love Vlad. He would bring her nothing but misery and pain. Unfortunately, she found it impossible to stop herself from falling in love with him time after time.


	4. Chapter 4

As the sun set, the search began for a suitable place to make camp for the night. Just after the first stars appeared in the black sky, the weary army happened upon an expansive open area covered by tall grass and a few scattered tress. A stream ran through the land making it the best possible place to rest for the men and their horses. Taking care of the horses was the first priority. Allowing them water and respite, removing the saddles and rubbing them down, were the most urgent tasks at hand. Since the night was clear with no threat of rain, there was no reason to waste time setting up tents. Besides, they would be moving on at dawn. They would sleep under the stars with the tall grass as their beds. The war awaited them. There was no time to dilly dally. They had to get to it to join the fray and carve out another victory in the name of God and their dear Prince of Wallachia.

Willie decided to steal away to a secluded part of the stream away from the men. She found an area of water hidden behind a mass of cattails and rushes. The stream flowed down a small incline and offered her a delightful place where the rocks were cushioned with a coating of moss. This would permit the water to flow over her tired, aching body while she remained out of sight behind a protective screen of foliage. Peeling her clothes from her body, stripping down to her bare skin, she rinsed the sweat out of her shirt and underthings before hanging them over a low hanging branch of a nearby tree to dry. She doubted anyone would find her in such a vulnerable state, completely naked and alone. The men were settling down to sleep, Vlad and Gannon included. She had left them while they and the other officers were discussing plans of attack and drinking wine. They would be asleep before long due to the fatigue brought on by the day's journey and the relaxation imbued to them by the alcohol.

Willie gritted her teeth, stepping into the ankle deep cool water. As the water deepened, the temperature plummeted. By the time she reached the middle where the water ran waist deep, her teeth were chattering. She paddled around lazily until her muscles began to cramp from the combination of constant movement and cold water. Swimming a little downstream, she found a natural seat among the rocks so she could lay down to allow the water to wash over her skin. Her body had grown immune to the cold by this time and the flowing water tenderly massaged her muscles as it bubbled and swirled around her. Sinking her head into the water, leaving only her nose above the surface to breathe, she opened her eyes to stare at the stars above her. Through the clear, slow moving water the white blue dots wavered as if they were shaking. Without warning, a shadow covered the dancing stars to block them from her view. Then there was a chuckle. Although slightly garbled on its trip through to water to reach her ears, the unmistakable familiarity of Vlad's amused chuckle hit her brain. Startled by his intruding on her peaceful haven, she inhaled in her surprise sucking in an undue amount of the freezing water. She sat up, choking and gasping for air. Her body continued to convulse with violent spasms of coughing to eject the water she had inhaled into her lungs. A cutting pain stabbed into her back as Vlad struck her with his large flattened palm between her shoulder blades to help her rid her lungs of the water. After vomiting a copious amount of water and a little bit of blood that coated the inside of her mouth with a tangy metallic flavor, she sat in the water shuddering and sobbing.

"You idiot," she whispered, unable to speak louder due to her raw throat and aching lungs. "You almost killed me."

Without a word, Vlad knelt down beside her to encircle her body with his arms. He held her against his warm chest to share his body heat. Willie pressed her hand over his heart. His bare skin felt hot to her cold skin. She closed her eyes, counting the beats under her palm while she continued to wheeze for air. His extensive tresses that blended with the night wrapped around her like a blanket when he moved closer, positioning himself behind her with his legs pressed along the sides of hers. A rigid, cylindrical object pressed against her bare butt. The rounded top of his hardened member poked into her lower back since he was holding her so tightly to his body. Her breathing almost ceased completely upon the full realization of her present perilous position.

"I did not mean to hurt you. I just wanted to surprise you," he murmured, into her ear.

"You definitely accomplished what you set out to do," she responded in between puffs of air. "Why do you torture me so? Do you really hate me so much?"

"What are you talking about, silly woman?" he laughed lightly. "I merely came here to take a bath. Just like you."

It was a long, winding stream. There were other places, much closer to camp, where he could have bathed. He was such a terrible liar. His lips grazed her neck causing a shot of pure desire to charge up her spine sending out little sparks of arousal through her whole body. She shivered, and he grasped her more firmly, tightening the muscles in his thighs and calves to press against her legs. Everything was instantly harder. Her breathing, her nipples...HIM. His manhood pulsed, moving against her back. His lips touched her earlobe, electrifying her from head to toe once again.

"When I saw you, lying there in the water, I had to come to you. I could not stay away. You are my weakness." His voice, a hoarse whisper, stroked her nerve endings as sensually as if he had touched her with his hands. "Your skin so fair and completely exposed." He kissed the delicate skin just behind her earlobe that was covered by hyper sensitive touch receptors. She jumped in response. Arousal wound its fingers around her spinal cord, squeezing it with a carnal awareness that made her whole body throb. "Your breasts, round and white, like the moon." His fingers teasingly drifted over the roundness of the tops of her firm breasts, but he did not grope her. Her nipples tightened and pulsed from the promise of being stroked, but it was not fulfilled. He dragged his fingers through the water then allowed the drops to fall from the tips onto her painfully taut nipples that craved to feel physical contact from him. His fingertips, his tongue - anything. The water trickled down her body, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind as each wet rivulet stimulated her flesh. "I envied this water. I wanted to touch you, to flow over you and stroke you from head to toe." His tongue darted out, lapping over her neck to make the artery throb wildly. "To taste you."

The beating of her runaway heart deafened her. Her whole body felt like one open, raw organ of sensory overload. Her body twinged with desire turning her into a squirming mass encased by his delicious muscular body and tantalizing words. Willie sighed as his soft hair licked at her sides when blown by the gentle night wind. Her head fell back against his shoulder when her body surrendered to him. Fear crept around the edges of her mind. She did not want to give into temptation. She did not want to be a harlot, a strumpet to be used and tossed to the side. She did not want to be just another conquest. The idea of him thrusting that _thing _which had somehow gotten wedged between the cheeks of her rear end and extended up to her lower back did not set well with her. The concept terrified her actually. She had never known a man before in the Biblical sense. And he was a married man. There would be no going back to the castle for her if she gave in to the lascivious want that had seized her body. Vlad would lose her because she would not be able to return to the only place she had called home for the last eleven years. How could he not understand that?

"Vlad," Willie mumbled, barely able to speak. "If you care about me at all, please don't do this."

"I'm not going to steal your innocence, Willene," he assured her, dribbling water over her chest again.

Willie could almost hear the cold drops sizzle as they fell upon her heated skin. Her body strained to move, to resist him, but this only made her more aware of his need when he strengthened his grip on her.

"I will not pick my beautiful blushing rosebud before she is ready to open up to me," he whispered into her ear. His tongue slowly outlined the outer rim of her ear, drawing a mournful moan from her that combined physical pleasure and emotional torment. So the man did possess self-control. Only when it suited _him_ obviously.

She was not sure if she should take comfort in his vow that he would not have sex with her tonight or if she should dread the future when he would deem her ripe for the picking.

"Please, I beg of you," she implored him, her words trailing off. She wanted to say stop, but the words would not form in her mouth.

"Don't do that," he admonished her affectionately. "I might not be sure what you are begging for and misinterpret your genuine desire." When he spoke, his chest vibrated against her back. He was being incredibly kind, but this was a different type of killing someone with kindness.

Willie cleared her throat, willing herself to speak. "Vlad, if you care about me at all, you'll -"

"Care? You think I care about you?" he questioned her, his voice carrying a tone of disdain that made her heart shrivel inside of her chest.

In a flash, it was over. Her desire fled immediately. She became aware of just how cold she was on the outside because it filtered down into her core. Her body began to quiver uncontrollably despite being enveloped by his warmth.

"Silly woman," he chuckled into her ear, kissing her cheek. "I don't _care_ about you." He paused, turning her body as easily as if she were doll so that she was facing him.

Tears brimmed at her lower eyelids. If they should fall, he would never see them because her face was covered by the shadow cast by the full moon behind her. His black eyes reflected silvery slivers of the moonlight.

"I love you," he confessed to her, pushing his fingers through her wet hair. "I am not sure when it happened, but I have fallen madly in love you."

She held her breath when he pulled her mouth to his for a kiss. Once again, her body betrayed her. Her arms slipped around his neck, her breasts flattening against his chest as he pillaged her mouth with the same intensity he ransacked a vanquished castle for treasure. He found the jewel he was seeking when her lips parted under his suggestive tongue allowing him entrance into her mouth. His tongue nudged hers before slowly withdrawing. When his lips raised from hers, she opened her eyes to see that he was gazing at her intently.

"How could you say such a thing?" she inquired, unable to explain why she felt offended by his declaration of love. "Why? Why would you tell me that?"

"The heart is a complicated matter. I cannot explain it myself," he answered vaguely. He kissed her chin when she continued to gawk at him with anger swirling in an undercurrent beneath the astonishment in her eyes. "I wanted to tell you how I really feel before we engage in the upcoming battle."

"You've turned my life upside down from the beginning," she told him, pressing her hands to his cheeks. The light growth of hair pricked at her fingers and palms. "You're a storm, Vlad III Dracul. You're a force of nature who has been wrecking my life and my heart. I've become convinced that you won't stop until I'm totally destroyed. Why?"

Vlad's arms slid around her waist, pulling her forward for a comforting embrace. "Because only when I destroy you, can I sincerely own your heart. You are prideful, strong willed, and relentless in upholding your morals. You have been since the beginning. Even as a child when you looked at me, I could see your strength, your fighting spirit that defied being tamed. I've always admired that about you. That is why I took you in rather than killing you when I decimated your village."

Willie gasped, caught off guard by his candidness that brought with it misery induced by his being too honest. She raised her head, staring behind him at the tree where her clothes were drying. In an effort to distract herself, she began contemplating if her clothes would be dry enough for her to put them on. As soon as she could extricate herself from his vise like grip, she would find out. She had the sinking feeling that he was not close to being done with her yet. If there were not so many extenuating circumstances, she would give herself, mind, body, and soul to him. The most obvious factor that kept her from giving in to her desires was his marital status. She could not truly savor being held this way by him either. As matters currently stood, it created quite the uncomfortable situation for her. She pondered how he could be so calm, so at ease with his decision to seduce her when he had a wife anxiously awaiting his return.

"I always wanted to subdue the one who will not be broken. When I found out you were a woman, well, that made you all the more alluring. I coveted you more," he admitted, kissing the hollow of her throat. "You will be mine, Willene."

She closed her eyes, encasing his head with her arms to hold him close. His face pressed against her neck as he returned her loving embrace.

"It hurts so much to love you," she whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead between his eyes. "No matter how many times you stab me in the heart, it continues to beat for you."

"I know," he said, placing his hand over her heart to feel its steady thrumming against his palm. "I am not intentionally being cruel, but I will confess to being a selfish, thoughtless man. I love you. One day, I will have you. You will be mine...for an eternity."

Willie detected the barely veiled threat buried inside that promise. She came to the disturbing conclusion that she would never actually be free from him. Vlad had her bound to him with unbreakable chains. He had forged the links with every considerate word and each attentive gesture. The hurt caused by his misdeeds and misguided statements were erased by his romantic overtures. She could never detest him. But she abhorred herself for loving him.

"I have to go," she stated brusquely, standing up on wobbly legs. She told herself it was the frigid water of the stream that had deadened the feeling in her legs and not his seduction that had weakened her.

"Good night, my love," he said, choosing to stay behind as she waded out of the water.

_My love. _That was a term of endearment he never called his wife.

"Good night, Sir," she returned, resorting to courtly manners to maintain her composure. Her fingers shook making it difficult to hold onto her clothing as she dressed in her undergarments and pulled the long loose shirt over her head. She carried the leather pants and vest in her arms as she walked back to camp.

Looking around her, Willie would have assumed a major skirmish had taken place in her absence if she had not known better. Men were laying haphazardly on the ground, some slumped against trees, and others leaned against their companions. If it were not for the lack of blood and the cacophony of snoring, she would have thought their troops had been wiped out. One lone man was awake, sitting by the fire and poking at the dying embers with a stick to stir up a flame before tossing on another stick of wood.

"Hello, Milady," Gannon greeted her in companionably with a tight smile on his face.

"Hello, General," she returned in like manner. She sat down beside him leaving an arm's length of distance between them. Her whole body was trembling. She leaned toward the fire, holding up her hands to warm herself.

"Are you all right?" he inquired, studying her with suspicion in his eyes. "What were you doing?"

Willie found the accusatory tone in his voice impossible to ignore. She could not help but think he suspected that she and Vlad had been up to something. How could he not? She had disappeared, then Vlad was no where to found. Her body suddenly heated with embarrassment when she began to imagine what he assumed had happened.

"I was taking a swim in the stream. After sweating all day and being covered with grime, I felt repulsive," she muttered, hugging her arms around her body.

"Oh? How do you feel now?" he asked, raising an inquisitory eyebrow.

"What are you implying?" she demanded, her eye twitching with aggravation.

"Not a thing, Countess," he answered, reclining against the log behind him with his hands folded behind his head.

"Countess?" she gasped, scooting over to sit right next to him. She could feel the heat from his body radiating toward her she was sitting so close to him. "How did you - "

"Your ring," he replied, taking a glimpse of her hand on the ground between them. "Did you forget you were wearing it?"

"I suppose I haven't really gotten accustomed to it. I didn't even know until a few days ago." She held up her hand, examining the silver band. Her eyes switched to his face to see he was staring at her. "What?"

Gannon shrugged, turning his eyes to gaze at the stars above them. "Nothing."

Willie felt safe and at ease when she was near Gannon. She had heard the stories told by the female kitchen servants in loud whispers, among blushes and titters of self-conscious laughter, about his flirtations and more intimate endeavors. However, she did not think she had to worry about protecting her virginity from him. Quite the contrary. She viewed him as a man who would defend her virtue. She was not sure why, but she trusted him. Perhaps she had faith in him as a soldier first and that made it easier for her to have full confidence in him as a man - at least where she was concerned. "Can I sleep with you?"

"Wh-what?" he stammered, sitting upright so violently he head butted her.

"OW!" they exclaimed in unison, rubbing their aching foreheads. They both laughed nervously despite the pain in their heads.

"I really do mean sleep, not..." She hesitated, glancing around apprehensively to see if Vlad had returned. He had not. She pulled in a deep breath and inclined her head toward Gannon's, slowly and cautiously, so they did have another painful meeting of the minds. "Not _that._"

"Sex?" he ventured, flinching when she began hissing like a snake.

"Shhhhh!" she hissed, pressing her finger to his lips.

Gannon began to chuckle despite her apparent wish for him to be quiet. His fingers curled around her wrist, pulling her finger away from his lips. "Oh, come on. You can say it. Sex," he goaded her, receiving another hiss to shush him. He laughed lightly.

"You're enjoying this far too much, you dirty dog," she chided him, forcing her lips into a deep scowl although she wanted to giggle. She absolutely would not allow herself to act like those ridiculous girls who gossiped in the kitchen. Huffing with annoyance, she turned her back to him and pulled her knees to her chest. "Fine then. I'll just huddle by myself over here."

Gannon became serious, the smile dropping from his face. He knew then that she was seeking his closeness as a shield against Vlad's salacious advances as much as a way to keep warm. He touched her shoulder, giving it a squeeze in a silent apology. "Does he vex you that much?"

"No." She swiveled the top half of her body around so she could look at him. Her eyes held his intensely azure blue eyes so he would not misunderstand the gravity of her next statement. "I am growing more concerned each day as to what I might do when I'm alone with him."

"You're a good woman, Willie. You won't do anything wrong," he murmured in an attempt to console her.

"I'm not so sure," she rejoined with a wavering smile. She turned away from him. Her trembling body stiffened when she felt him edge up behind her.

"About which part?" He put his arms around her noting that her body was still shivering.

"All of it." At the moment, she did not feel like a good person. She did not have confidence that her self-control could outlast Vlad's bewitching charm. Damn her overzealous conscience anyway.

"Willie," Gannon murmured, pressing his cheek to hers while she reclined against his chest. "I'll be your friend. I will do what I can to help you, to protect you. They only thing I ask in return is that you never use me as a tool against Vlad. I don't want to be pawn in a lover's game."

Willie flinched at the use of the word 'lover.' She would not put him in the same position in which Vlad had unwittingly put her with Ilona. She knew how much that hurt. "I won't," she promised. "I just need a friend."

"I will be that friend," he vowed, hugging her in a backwards embrace. "Now, go to sleep. You talk too much, and I'm tired."

Willie settled into his arms, assured that she was safe from any harm and secure that Vlad would stay away from her - for the rest of tonight at least. She had never had a real friend or close companion. She liked it. Until now, there had been no one close to her except for Vlad. She needed someone to be in her corner fighting for her. She needed a confidante, an ally, a champion. Gannon would be exactly what she needed.


	5. Chapter 5

Warmth surrounded Willie. A covering, soft as silk yet light as air, lay across her body from her shoulders to her hips. Gliding her hand across the formless, pliant mass supporting her body in cushiony comfort, her fingertips bumped into a solid, unmoving object. Her fingers moved over the unknown object in an attempt to discern its identity without opening her eyes. The surface felt supple and warm to the touch with an unmistakable compactness underneath. Her fingertips traced each bump and crevice as they explored to discover what it could be. Pressing her palm to the mystery thing, her hand unexpectedly rose and fell on the object. It was breathing! Her eyes flew open to see that she was lying next to Vlad, nearly nose to nose with him. Despite the darkness surrounding them in the early hours just before dawn, she could see him as plainly as if it were the middle of the day. She barely contained the urge to scream. If she screamed, the soldiers would come running. Undoubtedly, Gannon would be the first to heed her cries of distress.

Gannon. Where was he? How did she get here? And, oh, dear, God, why was she naked?! Closing her eyes, she forced herself to stay calm as she took a moment to assess her body. She distinctly remembered being clothed before going to sleep, and she had been sleeping beside Gannon. However, there was no tell-tale soreness or pain that would indicate that she had been violated. She breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing in the knowledge that Vlad had not become a completely reprehensible fiend with no moral fiber whatsoever. Her body was lying close to his but not contacting his except where her hand was still pressed to the area between his chest and belly over his diaphragm. She immediately snatched her hand away from his body like he had burned her. The coverlet that felt like it had been spun from a spider's web was actually his lengthy hair spread across her body. Her eyes studied his face that was so innocent and harmless in sleep. Her fingertips stroked the four days worth of growth that had formed a thin beard and mustache. The softness of the hair seemed so incongruent with hard edges of his face. His jaw, his chin, and his nose all formed severe angles giving him the genteel, haughty appearance reserved for the nobility. Following the rounded curves of her own face with the fingertips of her other hand, she had been spared from the angular, aloof appearance belonging to those of the typical social elitist.

Wille grew brave due to her curiosity when her tactile exploration of his face did not rouse him. Scooting closer to him, she brought her body within millimeters of his. With each rise of his chest, his pectoral muscles almost grazed her nipples that were rigid with excitement. His body heat flowed out to her in waves that beckoned her to come closer. She raised her hand then paused; hesitant but yearning to touch him. She settled for laying her hand on his shoulder. Her palm leisurely traveled the length of his arm down to his hand. There was an enchanting strength in that sinewy arm. With the power contained there, he could hold her tenderly, or he could strike down an enemy with one blow. His arms were capable of showing deep love or exhibiting unfathomable cruelty. Her eyes settled back on his handsome face. She counted each dark eyelash that curled against his tanned cheek. The man had beautiful lips. The top lip was thin but the bottom lip was full and thick. His lips were the color of ripe raspberries, juicy and inviting like the fruit, begging to be tasted. Her lips tingled with the memory of having experienced his kiss. Growing far too bold for her own good, her eyes drifted closed as she pressed her lips to his. She pulled away when his lips moved in response to her kiss. Her eyes were immediately captured by a set of shiny black ones containing a devilish gleam.

"What are you doing?" he questioned her, one thin black eyebrow arching upward inquisitively.

"I was...I mean, uh...I wanted...I - " She cut off her own sentence with a sigh of aggravation aimed at herself. "Dammit," she grumbled, giving up on making excuses. She jammed her lips against his, kissing him with vigor and passion. His hand cupped her jaw, holding her lips to his as he kissed her with fervency in return.

"Am I breaking you?" Vlad asked when she lifted her lips. His hand covered her shoulder, pulling her body closer to his. He smiled at her sudden wheezing intake of air when her breasts flattened to his chest.

"No," she responded, her voice breathy. "But you're bending me. I don't like it."

"Oh? You seem to be enjoying it well enough," he teased between tiny, tantalizing pecks to her lips.

"I'm not," she insisted, tucking her chin toward her chest to remove her lips from his range of easy access.

"Why not?" He kissed her forehead before nuzzling his nose against hers. His finger curled under her chin, raising her head. Her lips were within his reach once again, but he did not kiss her. Yet.

"You're a married man. I shouldn't feel the way I do. I shouldn't want the things I want. I - " Before she could say another word, his mouth covered hers. After diminishing her willpower to speak, he pulled his lips away the scantest distance. She sighed when his large hand, roughened by handling a sword, covered her breast and squeezed gently. Her hand slid across his shoulder to press against the back of his neck. "Vlad, you promised not to steal my innocence. To pick a rosebud before it was ready."

"Ah, crafty, my sweet one, using my own words against me as a weapon," he murmured, kissing her neck. He sighed with dejection, rolling onto his back to distance himself from her. "You are correct. I did say that. But, you did kiss me first this time."

Willie groaned, flopping over onto her belly to bury her face in the furs and to cover her breasts. Yes, she had kissed him first. She could not help it. His licentious teasing had become unfairly aggressive as of late. He had evoked sensations inside of her that she had never felt before. Her body wanted more; more of his lips, his tongue, his hands, his fingers - more of him. Vlad had stirred a yearning deep within her that she did not know existed. She prayed she did not break and seek to satiate the cravings of her body. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Why were you with the son of a bitch?" Vlad asked, his voice inordinately calm in contrast to his vicious choice of words.

"As much as I agree with your opinion of Gannon's mother, I would prefer that you refrain from being so incredibly crude and just plain vile," she snapped venomously.

"Why were you with him?" he repeated, leaving out the uncouth curse words.

"He's my friend," she answered simply and truthfully.

"Hmph," he snorted to express his disbelief.

"Green is not your color, Vlad," she rejoined, turning her head to glare at him. "The green eyed monster called jealousy does not suit you. You do not wear it well."

"Why were you with Gannon Lupei?" he asked again with tenacity.

"He was protecting me," she replied, sitting up to glower at him. She jerked one of the animal skins from the pile, wrapping it around her nude torso.

"From what?" he barked with consternation, grabbing her by the forearm to keep her from standing.

"You," she snapped curtly, tugging her arm free from his grasp. Standing to her feet, she looked around to see that Vlad had made his bed under the sheltering branches of a tree far from the rest of the camp. In the weak light of the coming dawn, she could see scores of motionless bodies sprawled over the grass covered landscape. Thankfully, everyone was still asleep. The remnants of the long burned out fire was nothing more than a black and gray circle at Gannon's feet. He lay curled in a fetal position by himself next to the log. Searching around for her clothes, she saw them at the edge of the makeshift bed and plucked them from the ground. Casting a furious glance at Vlad, she snarled, "You're such a spoiled child. You always get what you want. You take what you want whenever you want it. What did you do? Just take me out of his arms as we were sleeping?"

"Yes, as I matter of fact I did," he answered with his typical bluntness. "I pulled you right from his arms because you belong to me. I have told you that already, Willene. Just make peace with that fact and we will both be the better off for it." His eyes swept over her body from head to toe as she unintentionally displayed herself to him as she pulled on her underwear and tugged the shirt over her head.

"Dammit, Vlad," she growled through her gritted teeth. Her eyes locked with his in a battle of wills as he gazed at her. They were both wanting the other to look away first, to admit defeat.

"There was a time when I did not get anything I wanted. Nor did I get many of the things I needed," he told her, rolling onto his side. He propped his head on his hand to hold it up so he could continue to make eye contact without straining his neck.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, kneeling down beside him. She flinched in surprise when his other hand flattened across the top of her thigh.

"Willie, do you know why I am so vehemently opposed to the Ottoman Empire? Why I sacrifice everything to destroy them?"

She shook her head. No. She did not know. For over half of her life she had been a captive, a servant, forced to take orders and not allowed to ask questions. She had assumed his reason for campaigning so adamantly against the Ottoman Turks was to defeat an enemy of his God and his homeland.

"For fifteen years I was held as a political hostage by the Ottomans. I was tortured and punished for my willful ways because I refused to bow to them. I suffered indignities no man should ever have to endure. I hate them," Vlad confessed, his fingers pressing into her taut thigh muscles.

Willie could see the hatred mixed with sorrow swimming under the layer of wetness coating his eyeballs. When his eyes closed, breaking contact with hers, she leaned forward to press her hands to his cheeks. His jaw muscles tightened under her fingers, his face contorting into a mask of agonized misery as memories, unbidden and unwanted, flooded his brain. "What did they do to you?"

"There are some things not meant for the young and innocent like you," he told her. "You do not need to know, and I do not want you to know. I fear you would think differently of me, my dear. You might even come to loathe me."

The irony of his first statement had not been lost on her. For the most part, he did not seem quite so concerned about violating her innocence. Apparently Vlad had been deluding himself for quite some time about she often really felt about him. Willie appreciated that he did not want to divulge the horrors he suffered while in captivity. He was right. She did not want to know what had happened to him. Whatever had occurred had to be awfully sadistic considering the frightening masochistic beast he could become at times. She supported his head between her hands, leaning down to kiss his forehead to console him. After kissing the tip of his nose, her lips fitted themselves to his for a short, comforting peck.

Vlad patted her cheek as she pressed her forehead to his with affection. "You are such a good woman, Willie. More than I deserve. I love you."

"I am more than you deserve because you're such a careless, narcissistic imbecile," she murmured, bumping her forehead against his tenderly. Despite him just being himself, she loved him too. "You mean more to me than you know."

"You have no idea what it does to me to hear you say that," he groaned, pulling her mouth toward his.

"Oh, I have an idea," she returned, sitting up before he could kiss her. She made sure to keep her eyes from going any further down his body than his neck because she would rather not see the hard evidence of her effect on him. "Dawn is coming. Soon it will be time to begin the second day of our journey. You must get ready, Sir."

"Yes, ma'am," he rejoined in a crisp tone, saluting her with a fist brought to rest against his heart. He continued to lie on his comfortable pallet, staring without focusing on anything in the branches that spread out above him.

"Don't go back to sleep," she chided him, turning on her heel to walk away.

Grunts and groans filled the air as the hungover soldiers began to awaken. Willie gingerly stepped through the human minefield of tired, grouchy males. She did not pity them. They should not have drank until they passed out. She found the rest of her clothes neatly folded and under Gannon's head being used as a pillow.

"Traitor," Gannon mumbled without opening his eyes.

"What?" She was not sure that she had heard him correctly.

"You left me," he accused, opening his big blue eyes to glare at her.

"Not by my own choice," she rejoined defensively. "Can I have my clothes?"

"I know what really happened," he sighed, letting her know that he was not actually angry with her. He flipped over onto his back, making himself more comfortable on his leather pillow. Of course he had woke up when Vlad had pulled her away from him. He would have protected her right to his death if necessary if he had been facing any other foe. But how could tell his Supreme Commander 'no'? He was still a soldier under the Prince's command. "So did he -"

"No," she snapped before he could finish his sentence.

"You look bewildered."

"I am."

"What has you in such a befuddled state? Is it because you love him and don't know why?"

"Among other things." She chewed her lower lip, her eyes narrowing with aggravation as she stared down at the man who continued to withhold her clothes from her. "May I have my pants and vest, please?"

"Oh, yeah." He sat up, handing her the neat bundle. "They made quite the comfy pillow."

"General!" a soldier nearby yelled. He was pointing toward the east, staring at the horizon. "There are people approaching."

"Ottomans?" Gannon inquired, jumping to his feet.

"No, Sir! Gypsies," another soldier answered.

"Gypsies?" Willie swiftly pulled on her pants, stuffing her shirt inside of them. She found her boots on the other side of the log and sat down to put them on. "Wait for me!"

Gannon did not wait for her. He began walking at a swift pace to meet the group of nomads.

Gypsies had traveling in their blood. They had to follow their urge to wander the earth despite the war that raged through the countryside. These people had no home, no loyalties, no enemies, and no allies. They were ghosts of society, roaming the edges of civilization without assimilating into it. Beautiful and colorful in appearance, mesmerizing and flamboyant in personality, gypsies both beguiled and repelled the outsiders to their realm of mobile existence. Mysterious and secretive, they preferred to keep to their own. When mingling with others on rare occasion, they were most often viewed with fear and contempt.

Willie ran to catch up to Gannon, wondering where in the hell their fearless leader could be hiding. She hoped that Vlad had not fallen back to sleep. Pushing through the soldiers who encompassed their General, she stood behind him, peeking around him to watch the wayfarers advance upon them.

A motley group of two wheeled wagons decked with multicolored flags pulled by mules decorated with ribbons and bells crested the hill. A few men rode on horses. Many people, men, women, and children, walked in small clusters around the wagons as if traveling in their specific family groups. There was a hum of voices punctuated by the laughter of children. They were a lively bunch so early in the morning. Suddenly, one of the horses broke free from the horde, riding ahead and straight for the soldiers who stood in the valley at the bottom of the hill. He was an older man with steel gray hair tucked under a round, flat brimmed straw hat. His skin was dark brown and creviced, resembling the bark of a tree, from his many years spent in the harsh elements. His thick gray mustache that hid his top lip moved upward in the semblance of a smile.

Willie could not stop staring at his eyes. They were a pale, brilliant blue reminding her of the slick blue ice that would form on the lake behind the castle during winter. At the moment, they seemed warm with a friendly greeting yet they still retained a hardness that acted as a warning not to take advantage of his present genial mood. Without thinking, she grasped a handful of Gannon's shirt at the small of his back in one hand while her other hand gripped his upper arm. She looked like a small, shy child glimpsing around him to gawk at the man who seemed to be the leader of the gypsy troupe.

"Hello, my friend," the man greeted them in an amicable manner. His voice was smooth and thickly accented, reminding Willie of Velika. Romany. He spoke Romany, the language of the gypsies. She understood more than she could speak of the language. Velika had taken the time to teach her a bit of the language when she worked in the kitchen with the woman. As an adolescent, Velika's family had come through Wallachia asking to camp in the courtyard of the castle. At the time, Vlad's grandfather had been the ruling Prince. The young gypsy had become entranced with the handsome Prince and had decided to stay against the better judgement and adamant opposition of her family. If Vlad was anything like his grandfather, she could understand Velika's fascination with the man.

In a burst of courage, Willie stepped around Gannon to greet the man when no one else said anything. When she said hello in his language, his eyes sparkled with happiness. He slid from his horse, rushing forward. In fearful astonishment, she backed up, bumping into Gannon. Gannon lay his hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. This gesture of confidence in her gave her the courage to extend her hand to the gypsy. The man grasped her hand between the two of his, jerking her forward to kiss both of her cheeks. Velika had greeted her that way many times. It was a custom of theirs to do so if they met someone they liked. Her cheeks heated with a blush in response to his friendly flattery. When he backed away, he began to speak in a rush of words she strained to understand because he was talking so fast and in a foreign language she barely comprehended. Raising her hands, she begged him to slow down, informing him in extremely broken syllables that she did not know their language well.

"What is he saying? What is he saying?" Gannon demanded like an impatient child. This time he was holding a wad of her shirt in his hand. If the man made a threatening move toward her, he could snatch her back to safety.

"Shhhh!" she hissed. She inclined her head toward the stranger as she endeavored to make sense of the words. The man was informing her that they had encountered Ottoman troops on their journey. The Turks were located about a day and half worth of travel away and had been headed in their direction. The gypsies had traveled through the night to distance themselves from the men from a foreign land. Willie listened to the information with a growing sense of dread gnawing at her insides. All this time they had proudly thought they were bringing the battle to the Ottoman's while their enemy was quickly advancing toward them and would have overtaken them. After thanking the man, she told him that she must inform their Prince.

"Prince? The Prince of Wallachia?" the man inquired, his face becoming stony.

"Y-yes. Vlad III Dracul," Willie answered with some hesitancy.

"The third. The grandson," he muttered to himself, his face softening into sadness. "Is my older sister Velika still alive?" he asked with hope shining in his luminescent eyes.

"Yes!" Willie exclaimed, lunging at the man to hug him. It was her turn to jabber like a hyperactive squirrel. She told him all about his sister who had been her surrogate grandmother. "She's doing well, very well," she ended feeling a sense of contentment course through her body at the expression of relief and joy on the man's face. "Please, camp here with us tonight."

The man agreed with a nod of his head, patting her on the cheek. He turned to his people, emitting a shrill whistle then yelling at them to make camp. He also said something about a celebration.

"I don't understand a damn thing that just happened," Gannon said, staring at the gypsies as they began to scatter.

"The enemy is coming to us. We should stay put, hunker down, and be ready for their arrival," she advised him before relaying the information she had received from the man. "That's what Maurus said."

"Maurus? That's the old man's name? You got that much information that fast?" Gannon questioned her, amazed that she had understood a word the man had said because he had been speaking so fast.

"He's also Velika's baby brother," she added, turning her back on Gannon to walk away. "I have to find Vlad. We must stay here and prepare."

"Do you think he's going to like taking orders from you? When did you become a general? Hey! I'm talking to you!" he yelled when she continued walking away from him, mumbling to herself. Jogging to catch up with her, he fell into step beside her to assist her with finding Vlad. He spotted the Prince strolling in the direction of the stream. He was inclined not to tell her he saw the man. He had not slept worth a damn last night after Vlad had taken her with him. His imagination had ran amuck, supplying him with all sorts of horrid, sexual visions of what might be happening to her in Vlad's clutches. However, for his own sanity, he had to believe nothing at all had taken place. Putting his personal feelings aside, he pointed in the direction of Vlad. "There he is. Go tell him."

"My Prince!" Willie called, charging toward him.

"Ugh," he groaned. He hated hearing the possessive fondness with which she referred to Vlad. He whirled around on his heel and stalked away to order the men to set up camp. He knew Vlad would listen to her and heed her words because they had received an unexpected advantage over their adversaries. They knew the location, direction, and estimated time of arrival of their enemy. All they had to do was set a trap and lay in wait for the unsuspecting Turks to arrive to their own massacre. At least the Prince of Wallachia proved his worth by being a shrewd warmonger because he was a hopeless idiot concerning matters of the heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Vlad stood at the top of the hill gazing across the plain of battle. Flanked on either side by all of his commanding officers, he eyed his enemies who waited on the other side of the flat field. He always put his ranking officers on the front line to intimidate his foes. He also knew that an opposing army always searched for the men in command to kill them first. This strategy relied on the idea that decimating the chain of command relied would send the foot soldiers into a flurry of confusion. The main objective of the plan was to pick off their opponents like frightened children during the chaos. Vlad countered this scheme by putting all of the leaders out there for the combatants to see which immediately threw them into a state of bewilderment. Vlad always met his enemies head on, staring them down before the battle to let them know that he was not afraid. In his opinion, that was how real men fought a war: meeting their enemy face to face, showing no fear even if they were terrified inside. The battle of the mind must be engaged before any physical combat ensued to secure a victory. After imposing the mental scare tactics, the commanders of Vlad's army would ride forth, straight into their adversaries in a frontal attack while the foot soldiers surrounded the enemy troops on the sides. The commanding officers would then deliberately start separating the opposition into the smaller factions, herding them toward the armed soldiers who had come up on their backsides leaving them no escape route. Encompassed by the forces of Dracul, their foes would fall one by one until nothing was left but a blood soaked battlefield littered with bodies on the ground and mottled with dead men impaled on spears.

Willie sat on Seraphim staring at the back of Vlad's head. As soon as he mounted Methuselah, they would ride forth to engage their present enemy. Sweat soaked into her clothing that lay under the heavy brown leather armor she wearing. The day was hot with a blinding sun that beat down on them with marked brutality. Perhaps the heat alone would bring them a quick victory by draining the men of their vitality at a much faster pace than the throes of combat alone. But the sun was no respecter of men and would also swiftly fatigue Vlad's soldiers as well.

Vlad wore black leather armor decorated with shiny silver studs. Made of pure silver, these were no mere embellishments. Small pyramid shaped studs covered the armor making it impossible for an enemy to seize him without incurring a dreadful injury. The razor sharp hooks attached to the knuckles of his gloves punctured and ripped flesh like tiny daggers. The spikes attached to the shoulders, elbows, and knees of the armor acted as protection and weapons. Assisting Vlad with donning the armor was a time consuming, meticulous procedure for Willie in order to prevent wounding herself or him in the process. He lowered himself to one knee, bowing his head to pray. He adhered to a long standing ritual of praying to the God he fought for before clashing with the enemy.

"Dear God I ask that you are with me and my soldiers today. Shield us and protect us. Give us victory over this godless heathen army for it is in your name that we fight. Amen," he finished, receiving a smattering of amens in return from the throng of soldiers. The only time he seemed given to flowery words and bombastic prose was when practicing the art of seduction.

Willie pressed her lips together, tightening her hand around the handle of her spear. The place where she always gripped the wood had grown smooth and lustrous through the years of handling. The weapon had become an extension of her, manipulated as easily and naturally as when she moved her arms or legs. She could hear Vlad's laborious sigh signaling his readiness to begin. Her pulse quickened, her breath coming in fast inhales as he mounted his horse. A cold fear trickled down her spine at the same time the thrill of anticipation heated her veins through which her blood flowed at an ever increasing rate.

Emitting a throaty battle cry, Vlad raised his sword, the sun gleaming off the tip as if God himself had touched it to impart a divine blessing for victory. Methuselah leaped forward, his nostrils flaring. Horse and rider both were excited for the upcoming violent confrontation. With the Prince of Wallachia leading, the commanding officers fell into a line, two men riding abreast of each other starting with the generals then descending in rank, they charged into battle.

The enemy moved forward as well. Staying in one big mass, the army appeared to be one entity, a sea of people that blended into one writhing, moaning creature of doom that advanced upon the Wallachian forces.

Removing his second sword so that he was armed on both sides, Vlad hit the wall of the humanity swinging the blades to carve a path for his men. Like the Red Sea parted for Moses, the army before him began to split in half. The officers riding side by side turned into opposite directions from each other, their horses creating divisions in the ocean of bodies. Using their weapons, they cut their way through the enemy to break them into smaller, more easily managed groups. And so the trend continued, whittling the opposing army down until they were miniscule groups of men surrounded on all sides by the troops belonging to the crusading Prince. The practiced and well practiced Wallachian forces destroyed their adversaries, slaughtering the Ottomans with force and unrestrained anger born from a sense of religious outrage.

Before the sun sank below the horizon, the battle was over. Black silhouettes of men on spears looked like macabre scarecrows against the backdrop of the blood red sky painted by the setting sun. Not a single soldier of the opposing army had been left alive. Vlad did not take prisoners. It truly had been a miracle that he had allowed Willie to live. She was reminded of that after every conflict.

Willie slid from Seraphim's back. The horse had been struggling for air, her sides expanding against Willie's legs with her effort to breathe. She patted the horse's neck in appreciation for once again keeping her safe through the fracas. Dependable and steady, the horse had remained unfazed by the clanging of metal weapons about her ears and the screaming, dying men falling at her hooves. She began pulling off her armor, her muscles protesting with a searing jolt of pain because they did not want to move anymore. The armor felt too heavy like it was weighing down her tired body that could just not bear it any longer. The blood of her enemies that coated her face and hands had started to dry making her skin feel tight and grubby. Although weary and in dire need of a bath, there was still more to do, more blood to shed before she could wash away the remnants of this battle. Being one of the members of the annihilation squad, she had been tasked with the extremely distasteful task of finding and killing any adversaries that may still be clinging to a tiny shred of life after a skirmish. Whether Vlad was being cruel or stupid by giving her such a command was unclear to everyone including her. However, Vlad always had solid reasoning behind every decision he made as far as his soldiers were concerned. He refrained from showing her favoritism and sometimes gave her some of the most difficult assignments, sometimes even when other soldiers had volunteered for the job. In the end, her willingness to complete these duties without whining or complaining enabled her to garner the respect of her fellow soldiers. That was his objective. Having their admiration and trust kept her safe from being an object of contempt or disdain - or rape considering she was the only female soldier.

Willie picked up her spear to begin her necessary but odious chore. She did not have to walk far to find the first man. Calling him a man would be an overstatement. She gazed down at the boy who could not be more than fourteen, trembling on the ground as the blood poured from the gaping wound in his belly. For a brief moment, her eyes met his brown ones that were filled with the agony of physical pain and mind numbing terror. Her eyes traveled back to his wound. She could see his innards, slick and shiny, pulsing with what little life he had left. Raising her spear, she avoided looking at his face. His wound was fatal anyway. The only way she could bear killing him was considering herself an angel of mercy in his case. Driving the spear downward into his heart, the dual blade gliding through cloth and flesh as if it were mere paper, she ended his life. Tears stung her eyes as a stab of guilt pierced her heart like she had the boy's. Killing never got any easier for her. She wished she could become numb to it like Vlad. However, he seemed to be indifferent to many things that compromised morality. She sighed, pulling her spear from the body. On to the next one.

"Willie!" Gannon bellowed unexpectedly breaking the ominous silence that had shrouded the bloody battlefield.

Willie's head immediately jerked in his directions because his voice had sounded so fearful. She saw him running at her full speed with his sword raised in attack position. Her body whirled around just in time to see the Turk before he jammed his sword into her belly. She grabbed the blade with her hands in her shock, lunging forward while thrusting the sword backwards to slam the handle into his abdomen. The man tumbled backwards, his arms flailing, before his behind had a painful meeting with the blood stained earth. Snatching the curved sword from her body, issuing a low grunt from the pain, she fell toward him with the blade pointed at his heart. The soldier screamed just before he was killed with his own sword. Her body weight on top of the hilt pushed the blade all the way through his body, fastening him to the ground. Unable to stop her fall, she turned to the side, landing on her back. She stared up at the deep blue night sky, seeing the first star blink into view.

Gannon had been too far away from Willie when he had seen the Ottoman soldier emerge from under the pile of dead comrades. Helplessly, he had watched as the man stood up then charged toward the woman who had been distracted by extinguishing the life of the soldier on the ground. All he had been able to do was yell for her before running, hoping against all hope that he would somehow make it to her in time. He had not been there when she needed his protection most. Why had she taken her armor off? Why hadn't he been closer to her? Despite the many questions that rushed through his brain, he knew one thing for certain - he had failed her.

"Oh, God, no," Gannon gasped, dropping to his knees beside her. He pressed his hand to the wound that was creating and ever widening circle of red across her shirt over her belly. Nausea made bile rise in throat. He barely contained the urge to vomit as he saw the color dissipating from her face. She was going to die. "Help! Somebody help me!" he hollered in panic keeping his hand pressed to the injury to stem the bleeding.

"It hurts," she mumbled, wheezing fiercely.

Two soldiers that had heard Gannon's pleas for help and arrived to stand beside him, awaiting orders from their General. Noticing the General's current discombobulated state, they knew he could not even think much less give them a command.

"I'll go get Vlad," one of the soldiers advised before running off.

"I'll go see if the gypsies have a medicine woman or a healer of some sorts," another informed Gannon then sprinted away.

"Willie, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I failed you," Gannon apologized, holding her upper body in his arms to keep her from lying flat on the tainted ground.

"I don't want to die," she puffed, gritting her teeth against the pain.

"You won't. You can't," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back the tears that wanted to come.

Willie could feel his body shaking as he held her. Her insides felt as if the were ripping apart. Blood was filling her belly and pressing on her lungs making it difficult to breathe. She had been injured many times but never this badly. If she had been wearing her armor... A scream of agony ejected from her lips as the knife of pain spiraled through her insides. A light, flames of orange and red, hovered in the air above her before a handsome face stretched with worry came into view.

"Willie," Vlad gasped taking her out of Gannon's arms. He cradled her lovingly against his chest, her head lolling lifelessly to the side as her life drained away.

Willie engaged the weak muscles of her neck , turning her head to look up at him. His face was a ghastly gray color making him appear as if he had died upon seeing her. His eyes swam in a sea of tears as he looked down at her. Her hand reached up to him, pressing to his cheek.

"You can't die," he told her, leaning down to press his forehead to hers.

The sound of Maurus speaking rapidly in Romany reached her ears seconds before his face appeared above her. His already wrinkled forehead was even more creased with worry. He lifted up her shirt to examine the extent of the injury. All of the blood covering her skin made it impossible to discern the exact size and depth of the wound. His thick, strong fingers pressed around the wound before sliding inside of the gash to ascertain to some degree the internal damage.

Gannon's grip on Willie tightened as she howled from the excruciatingly thorough examination. He assisted with sitting her up so Maurus could take a look at her back. There was a two inch long exit wound on her back to the left of her spine. She had been run through, but at least her spine had not been severed. Unfortunately, not many survived an injury like this. Tears flowed from Gannon's eyes in copious amounts without him trying to stop them. He glanced at Vlad, seeing that a few tears had broken free to zigzag down his cheeks that were still colored with a pallor like that of death.

"She might be able to survive this," Maurus announced. He issued orders to the women standing around him, requesting supplies he needed. Patting Gannon on the shoulder, he said, "Come, come, bring her with you. Follow me, young man. I will take care of her. We can put her in the covered wagon."

A comforting numbness settled into Willie's body preventing her from feeling the pain that had become unbearable when she was picked up from the ground. Her body felt warm as if she were bathing in tepid water on a hot summer day. Her body seemed to float as Gannon carried her in his arms. At least, Mercy saw fit to smile upon her, and she fainted.

"Willie? Willie!" Vlad shouted loud enough to bring her back from the dead if she had been dead.

"She has fainted from the pain. She's not dead," Maurus informed the panicked Prince. He moved with speed and purpose as they made their way back to the camp which was quite a distance away. He had decided to stay put with the army until the lurking enemy had been vanquished. Once he knew the Ottoman's were no longer a threat, they were going to move on. Glancing back at the woman who was quickly bleeding to death in the young General's arms, he knew that they would not be leaving any time soon. Unless she died. An irritated snort left him as he made up his mind to save this girl. She had spoken their language, she knew his sister, and because of her, he would be reunited with that sister. He would not allow her to die.

Gannon made his way up the rickety wooden steps that led into the back of the wagon. Lamps had been lit inside the wagon before their arrival and a bright white light dispelled the darkness. He cautiously laid her down on the couch covered in red velvet and various shawls in shades of purple, turquoise, and gold. He knelt down beside her, holding her hand that was slick with blood as Maurus busied himself with gathering implements to take dress her wound.

Vlad clambered into the wagon, making it rock and creak on its giant wooden wheels. He sat down in a chair located at the front of wagon because it seemed to be the best place for him to stay out of the old man's way. His eyes suspiciously gazed at Gannon, focusing on the hand that held Willie's. He sucked in a sharp intake of air as the man's thumb affectionately rubbed over the back of her hand. It offended him greatly that another man was touching her. However, since he was in the company of a stranger, he would refrain from acting on his jealousy. Instead, he would have to sit and pout like a petulant child whose toy had been taken away. Never before in his life had he felt so useless or weak. He hated the feeling.

The wagon seemed to be the mobile medical facility of the gypsy troupe. There were bottles and vials of all colors and sizes filled with liquids and powders of all colors. Both men observed Maurus as he opened a tall brown bottle, took a healthy sip then gently lifted Willie's head to press the bottle to her lips. A dark brown liquid poured into her mouth. The man massaged her throat with careful fingers to make her swallow. Maurus shouted something in Romany. Two women came running to the back of the wagon minutes later. One held a bowl of clean water from the stream. The other held a pile of neatly folded pristine white cloths.

Directing Gannon to lift her up, Maurus laid several of the cloths under her. He then poured the rest of the contents of the bottle over the wound to wash away the excess blood. The liquor had served several purposes: to steady his nerves so he could tend to her, to manage her pain, and to disinfect the wound. He grabbed another bottle from the shelves, pulling out the cork with his teeth. Using his thumb and forefinger, he pulled apart the wound to pour the alcohol straight into it. If blood loss did not kill her, an infection that could develop would.

Willie sprang to a sitting position, shrieking like a banshee that had flown straight out of the pits of hell. Half conscious, she punched at the men in reaction to the pain. Her insides were burning as if pure hot lava had been poured into her body.

"Hold her down! Hold her down!" Maurus yelled at Gannon.

Gannon struggled to bring her under control. They physical torment she was enduring had given her inhuman strength. At last he was able to subdue her, straddling her thighs while he held her wrists together above her head. He stayed in an upright position to enable the gypsy to continue working on her. Pulling her hands down, his eyes concentrated on the deep gashes in her palms as Maurus cleansed and disinfected them. They were dried and wrapped hurriedly so he could get to the life threatening wound she had incurred. He returned to cleaning away the blood around the entrance wound, disinfecting the area which elicited horrendous screams of agony from her. One of the women appeared holding a bundle of cloth. She opened it to reveal a knife that had been heated to such a high temperature the blade glowed a sinister red. Wrapping the cloth around the handle, she handed the knife to Maurus who pressed it to the wound. Another shriek that sounded like it had come from a tortured soul of hell rang through the heavy night air. She bucked and writhed under Gannon. The acrid odor of burnt flesh assaulted their noses. Maurus had cauterized the wound, burning the flesh to seal the skin. Since the knife was still incredibly hot, he repeated the procedure on the wound on her back. This time she did not make a sound because she had lost consciousness.

"Now what happens?" Vlad inquired, receiving a lethal glare from the two men who were sweating and winded from their toil to save the woman.

"We wait. Only time will tell if she survives," Maurus wheezed breathlessly. He went back to the shelf that housed many more brown bottles. He took three, handing one to each of the other men and keeping one for himself.

They exited the stiffling heat of the wagon, the cool night air giving them a chill as it blew across their sweaty skin. All three sat around the fire that had been built near the wagon to heat the knife.

"She has lost a lot of blood. Should she live, she will probably never return to her normal vigor from the extensive blood loss," he explained, almost panting in his exhaustion.

"Are you saying she will be sickly for the rest of her life?" Gannon asked, tilting the bottle up to his lips.

"Yes," he answered bluntly. "She will never be able to return to battle. She will not be able to perform many normal activities."

"Tomorrow I will arrange for her to be transported back to the castle," Vlad announced, taking a drink from his bottle.

"No. She cannot be moved. She has to remain here until at least a small portion of her strength comes back," he told them, giving each man a stern look in turn.

"We can't stay still. If we do, we will become easy targets for the enemy," Gannon muttered thoughtfully, trying to come up with a plan as to what to do.

"I can't risk Willie's life. I won't move," Vlad proclaimed obstinately.

"You would risk a whole army for one woman?" his general inquired, glaring at him.

"I would risk anything for that woman," he replied, returning the man's glower.

"Fools," Maurus muttered, becoming the victim of both men's harsh stares.

One corner of Gannon's lips edged upwards into a cocky grin. He knew Vlad would say that. The man was willing to risk his kingdom, his life, - his marriage - for Willie.

"We can stay here with her. You can move your army and fight your war," Maurus said with bitterness clinging to each word. He spit on the ground at Vlad's feet before continuing. "We will have none of your war. Leave that precious girl out of it. Haven't you done enough by dragging her here and almost getting her killed?"

"Hold your tongue, peasant," Vlad growled, standing to his feet. "She willingly followed me. She is - was my loyal servant. Now she serves me as a faithful soldier."

"Peasant?" Maurus pondered aloud, standing up to meet the challenge of the Prince. He carefully looked the Prince of Wallachia over from head to toe. "You do not understand who you are talking to, your Highness. I am the Gypsy _King_, not just the spokesman and medicine man of my people."

"I apologize greatly for offending thee, Sire," he returned in a voice rife with mockery. He added a bow to multiply his scorn.

"You really are stupid sometimes, Commander," Gannon piped up, made a little too forthright by the strong liquor in his system. "This man just saved the life of the woman you love. By that fact alone, you should show a little more respect. I apologize on his behalf, Maurus."

"Hmph," the old man snorted grouchily, sitting back down to attend to his bottle. "At least one of you is dignified and has manners. Maybe you should be Prince, Duke of Lupei."

"Mmmm," the blond hummed, leaning back against the tree behind him. "That's my father. I'm just Gannon Lupei, a Knight of Wallachia." He raised his bottle in a silent toast to Vlad. "Who serves the Prince Vlad III Dracul." He took a drink then continued speaking. "I think Maurus has devised the lesser of two evils. We should follow his advice."

"I cannot and will not leave her," Vlad stubbornly argued.

Gannon smiled. The smile openly showed his resentment for his Supreme Commander. He threw up his hands in defeat. There was no talking to Vlad. The man was allowing his heart to speak for him instead of using rationality to make his decision. This lapse in judgment was not like Vlad. Perhaps he loved Willie with a sincere heart since this event had muddled the man's thinking. He leaned forward, the light of the fire making his glazed eyes shine. Allowing his lips to recede from his teeth baring them like a vicious animal, he snarled, "Then you have doomed us all, Prince Vlad. Start praying now that God will forgive you for all of the innocent blood you will have on your hands."

Vlad's eyes flickered in the darkness, the nearby fire reflecting in their dark irises made them appear to glow red. Blood - the life giving substance contained in every human being's body. Blood sustained life. Thinking of Willie, he remembered lack of it could take a life. Images of crimson battlefields and vermillion stained weapons flipped through his mind. Death and destruction, life and victory; all came in shades of the most gorgeous red. He could hear the beating of his own heart in his ears. His heart pumped the ruby colored fluid of life through his veins, keeping him alive. Blood represented power - the power to give life or take it away, the ultimate power. If he could harness that power, he could become truly invincible. He could conquer life and death itself. His life could be eternal, and he would never have to endure the caustic sting of death. He would share this gift with Willie. If only there was a way to capture that limitless energy of life itself. His eyes raised to see that Gannon was gone, and Maurus was studying him with intense interest tempered with uneasiness.

Gypsies were known for their magic and mysticism. They had an insatiable spiritual curiosity that drove them to dabble in the spirit world. Being familiar with supernatural things, rumors were told that they possessed abilities to create their own kind of miracles.

Vlad's God had failed him today. Although he had won the victory over his enemies, he would have lost everything if Willie had died. He could not take a chance of allowing her to die in the future either. He could not wait for his God to perform a miracle. He would have to create a miracle of his own - with a little help.

"What are you thinking, Prince of Wallachia?" Marus asked as a menacing grin spread across Vlad's face. The man appeared to have transformed into something positively evil right before his eyes.

"I need your help," Vlad stated matter of factly, his voice tranquil.

"My help? How could I possibly help you?" Maurus's forehead developed those few extra creases that come with deep concern.

"I want to become undefeatable. I must vanquish my enemies, draining their very life force. I want to make their strength, their souls, everything within them, mine. I want to hold the power of eternal life while I am still here on this godforsaken earth," he said, reaching out his hand as if he were grasping for that life.

"What would you do for me should I share the secret of possessing such a power with you?" Maurus demanded, standing up from his chair.

"I will free your sister. I will allow you and your gypsies to roam freely all over my kingdom to do as you wish," Vlad promised without hesitating. "What do I have to do?"

"Are you sure that you want to do something like this?" Maurus questioned him. "Once you do this, there is no turning back. You will be making a deal with the devil, and there are no allowances for regret. You will be transformed into an accursed monster, doomed to walk this earth forever. You will leave nothing but a trail of despair and tragedy in your wake for all of your endless days. Can you really say that you are prepared to shoulder that kind of burden?"

"To avenge my beloved, Willene...to protect her, I would do anything. I would walk straight into hell to get what I want."

"Good. Because that is exactly what you will have to do."

Vlad watched at the gypsy climbed into the back of his covered wagon. Maurus returned with a vial of vicous fluid that was such a dark crimson it was almost black. He held the vial out to the Prince who snatched it from his fingers.

"What is this?" Vlad asked, rolling the small corked glass bottle in his palm.

"It is the blood of a vampire. My father happened upon the accursed creature in his travels in Carpathian Mountains. He killed the monster by thrusting a stake through his heart. The poor tortured beast that used to be a man thanked my father for killing him and setting him free from his never ending prison while he was dying," Maurus told him with a warning tone behind the words. "Think carefully, your Highness. Only disaster and sorrow will come to you and those around you, including your sweet Willie, if you do this."

Vlad held the bottle between his thumb and forefinger allowing the light from the fire to shine through the glass. The blood seemed to move on its own in the bottle, crawling up the sides of the glass before oozing back down to join the rest. With this he could destroy the Turks. He could ensure the safety of his country. He could secure Willie's life, keeping her young and beautiful and his for an eternity. Vlad flicked the cork out of the bottle with his thumb.

"Are you sure?" Marus asked him again, grabbing his wrist before he could lift the vial to his lips to drink.

"Yes," Vlad answered with single minded determination.

"You will become darkness itself, wicked to the core and evil beyond measure. You will lust for the blood of humans and kill thousands of innocents."

"I've already done that."

"God will not have mercy on your soul," Maurus warned him, squeezing his wrist.

"God? Why do you speak of a God that you don't believe in and that I no longer blindly follow?" Vlad spat out with revulsion as if the words tasted bitter.

"Do as you wish," the gypsy said, releasing the Prince's wrist.

Vlad drank the contents of the bottle without exhibiting any uncertainty. The fluid was thick and salty, coating his tongue and almost gagging him as it slithered down his throat. His body was instantly thrown into a pit of despair and pain that he had never experienced. His innards cramped, writhing as if they had come alive. Every muscles spasmed, tightening into sore knots. Pure fire ran through his veins, scorching his whole body from the inside out. Occasionally the discomfort would subside, granting him a few seconds of respite, only to come back twice as strong.

When Vlad started to bellow like an injured animal, Maurus gagged him to prevent his cries of torment from garnering the attention of any of his soldiers. The gypsies formed a circle around Vlad's convulsing body, chanting an incantation in their language as the man rolled and tumbled while he suffered through giving birth to the demon inside of him. By the end of his ordeal, Vlad had become convinced that he did indeed die and go to hell before clawing his way back out of the brimstone and sulfurous fires to reclaim his life. He had no idea what lay ahead of him, what other torturous pain he would be forced to experience, but he was not afraid. Even while enduring the worst of the physical misery, he did not regret his decision.


	7. Chapter 7

Vlad lay on the ground panting. The haze of his restless sleep that had been plagued with nightmares muddled his brain. He opened his eyes to see the slate gray sky above him. The sun was coming. His belly rolled and lurched violently, forcing out something vile. Rolling over onto his belly, he swiftly rose to his knees so he could eject the thick fluid that tasted like death itself. The liquid was black and viscous like pitch as it splashed onto the ground between his hands. There were chunks of something in the revolting tar like substance that seemed to quiver with life. Looking at the repulsive black stuff made him feel like he was going to be sick all over again. Sitting up straight while still on his knees, he sucked in a cleansing breath of the cool morning air. With the nausea gone, he became aware of the stinging sensation on his chest. The searing discomfort slid up his chest and around his neck in a thin line. Reaching into his shirt, he patted his chest to find the source of the disconcerting pain. His fingers slid under the chain of the necklace, lifting the ring away from his skin. The burning stopped where the silver no longer touched him. On the places where the necklace remained in contact with his skin, mostly against the back of his neck, it continued to burn like fire. His fingers curled around the ring causing his palm to sizzle.

"I'm sorry, Willie," he whispered, snatching the necklace to break the chain. With a grunt of relief from the pain but aggravation from not being able to wear her symbol, he threw the necklace aside. His eyes studied the flawless circle the ring had branded into his palm. Under his intense observation, the raw, inflamed skin healed leaving no marks behind.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he muttered under his breath, flexing his fingers into a fist. Pulling his sleeve down over his hand, he reached for the ring to pick it up. As he was about to touch the object, a pair of scuffed brown suede boots appeared in his line of vision. A wrinkled old hand with long yellowed fingernails reached down to pick up the necklace, dangling the ring in front of his face.

"Hell is exactly what is happening to you," Maurus said, slipping the ring in his pocket. "There are a few adverse side effects that come with your, shall we say, disease...for lack of a better term."

"Why did you not tell me about these last night?" Vlad demanded, standing to his feet. He swayed slightly when his brain seemed to slosh around in his skull and everything he saw doubled in number.

"Would it have mattered? Would you have chosen not to drink the blood?" Maurus asked, signaling with the wave of a hand for the man to follow him. "Come. You should get to shelter before the sun rises."

"What? Why?" he questioned the gypsy with obvious distrust. He hesitated at the bottom of the steps of the covered wagon when Maurus paused on the top step.

The Gypsy King turned to glare at the stubborn Prince before saying, "If you do not get out of the sun, you will burn into a pile of ash in a matter of minutes. It will be a painful, horrible, and pathetic death. Even more painful than your trip to hell last night. But at least it will be quick." When Vlad continued to vacillate, glancing at the horizon that glowed with golden light, he grumbled, "Do you think I'm lying to you?" Yellow rays of light pierced the sky changing it from gray to blue. "Are you willing to risk dying by mistrusting me?"

Vlad pressed his lips together in annoyance. He had no choice but to trust the gypsy so he climbed into the wagon. Besides, Willie was there. Although she was still unconscious, he sat down beside her. Death still had a strong grip on her judging by her sickly pale skin. Pushing down the shawl that covered her up to her neck, he pressed his hand to her heart. There was a faint fluttering against his palm. She was breathing - but barely. Lowering his head, he kissed her lips that were cool and unmoving under his. Tears stung his eyes. This time, he let them fall unchecked. He pressed his forehead to hers, whispering, "You cannot die. I will not be able to live without you. Especially not for an eternity."

A flame burst into life across from him drawing his attention away from Willie. Maurus sucked on the piece of wood in his mouth. The flame was pulled down into the little bowl attached at the end of the pipe which held tobacco. A thin, white tendril of smoke curled from the man's lips. A scent like cherries and damp wood shavings filled the air. Sitting back in his chair, he got comfortable for the impending lengthy explanation.

"Your days of walking in the sunshine are over, Prince of Wallachia. The sun will never again shine on your face unless you want to die." Withdrawing the necklace from his pocket, he pushed back the curtain to allow a sliver of light to come into the gloom where they sat. The single ray of light hit the ring, reflecting into a tiny spot on the Prince's cheek instantly frying his skin. The old man dropped the curtain when Vlad hissed in pain like an angry animal. "Silver, as you learned, will burn you. It also drains away your strength when you are near it. Stay away from it at all costs."

Vlad caught a glimpse of the ring on Willie's finger. He would buy both of them new rings made of gold. "What else should I know?"

"Crucifixes, Holy Water, virtually all Christian symbols will weaken you. In and of themselves they will not kill you. However, they will sap your power while negating your immortality. This will enable a mere human to kill you. The sight of these Christian talismans will cause you great torment because you turned your back on God. Anything that symbolizes Him will spell doom for you, Vlad Dracul," the old man murmured, leaning toward Vlad. "You must be prepared for the hunger that is coming. You will _need _the blood. Your need to feed will be so powerful that you will not be able to deny it."

"I will make sure there are plenty of Turks around for my food," Vlad said, turning his attention to Willie. "What about her?" Vlad asked, running his fingers through Willie's russet locks. "Can I change her into a vampire?"

"Do you really want to force her into an eternal living hell?" the gypsy inquired, touching the vampire's arm.

"I became this for her. For vengeance...and for love. I will destroy anyone who would try to harm her. I want her to be by my side...always," he declared, kissing her lips again. He gasped when they moved under his. His tears ceased streaming down his cheeks when her eyelashes moved against her colorless cheeks, and she groaned.

"Your selfishness knows no bounds, does it?" Maurus stood up, filling a rough hewn wooden cup with water. After dumping in a spoonful of powder from one of the many jars, he stirred it. He pushed it toward Vlad. "Here. Get her to drink this."

Vlad gently raised Willie's head using one hand on the back of her neck, pressing the cup to her bottom lip. He tipped the cup permitting the water to flow into her mouth in a tiny rivulet. The heady herbaceous scent of whatever Maurus had mixed into the water filled his nose. Hopefully it was something to ease her pain and strengthen her. Unfortunately, the water dribbled from the side of her mouth, sliding down her cheek to wet her hair. "Please, Willene, you have to drink."

"Vlad?" she whispered, her eyes slowly opening. "I'm alive?"

"Yes," he answered happily, pressing the cup to her lip again. "Drink."

Willie thought her lips would surely crack because they were so dry. The water was cool and soothing as it flowed across her swollen, parched tongue. The yearning of her thirsty throat enticed her to swallow. Only with Vlad's assistance could she hold her head up. Once she had drank a few sips of the water, she was too tired to take anymore. Her eyes darted in all directions, taking in her surroundings inside the dim interior of the covered wagon. "Where am I?"

"You're inside my wagon," Maurus announced, allowing his presence to be known. "Do you remember anything that happened to you?"

"I was stabbed. Wasn't I?" she queried, wishing it had all been a bad dream. Brushing her bandaged hand across her belly that still ached miserably told her otherwise.

"But you're alive," Vlad murmured, kissing her forehead. "You can't leave me."

Willie raised her hands to his face using her forefingers to trace the wet streaks that zigzagged down his cheeks. He had been crying. She had never seen him cry before. Her eyes met his that held an eerie deep crimson luminescence in their usually black depths. She assumed she was hallucinating due to her high fever. Her body shivered as she continued to hold his gaze. The red coloration of his irises seemed to become more intense, gradually becoming lighter in shade before changing into a brilliant red like a blazing hot ember. She gasped, closing her eyes to shut out what she erroneously assumed was only a hallucination.

"I love you," Vlad whispered, kissing her cheek. His heart sank because she did not say it back to him. However, he understood that she did not feel free to express her genuine sentiment because he was a married man.

Willie trembled, her fingers clutching at his soft white shirt. His breath was cool against her cheek. How odd. It set her nerves on edge. His skin was cold to the touch, but she assured herself that was because of her fever. Her hands slid to his chest, searching for a heartbeat. Feeling the steady rhythm of his heart had always brought her solace. Her palm pressed to his chest waiting to feel the comforting thump. Why couldn't she feel anything? Had she fainted again and all of this was some bizarre dream? Panic set in causing her heart to beat faster and her breathing to become labored. Just as the dizziness took hold, threatening to steal away her consciousness, she detected a thump against her palm. Keeping her breaths shallow, she waited for the next one. She counted. At fifteen, his heart jumped again, tapping her hand through his chest. She did not understand how he could he be alive with such a slow heartbeat. Unless... "Vlad, did something happen to you? Were you injured as well?"

"No, my love. You did give me quite a scare. You could have very well frightened the life out of me," he rejoined with a bit of inappropriate dark humor.

"That's nothing to joke about, Vlad," she admonished him, weariness overtaking her. Unable to say another word, she slipped back into sleep.

"Will she live?" the Prince asked, smoothing her hair back from her face.

"Only time will tell," Maurus replied vaguely to the man who expressed sincere concern for her. "You really do love her that much?"

"I do."

"Then let her be. The best thing you can do for her is to let her go. Allow her to live out a normal human life." He blew out a succession of smoke rings toward Vlad. He watched as one widened, fitting around Vlad's neck before it disappeared like a transparent hangman's noose. "Don't force her to endure a living death and perpetual misery with you."

"Leaving her is something that I cannot, and will not, do. Why does living an eternity have to be such a tragic disaster?"

"Hmph," the old man snorted as if he knew something that he was not telling Vlad. It would not be the first time he had withheld vital information. "Foolish, selfish man." His eyes flashed in the darkness, seeming to glow, only for a moment, with a dazzling silver illumination. "Then let me at least offer you this advice, and heed my words," Maurus said using a cautionary tone. "I know you want her to be a vampire like you. If you try to turn her now, she will die. Her body is not strong enough to endure the transformation."

"Thank you for telling me that," Vlad responded, staring down at her. He wondered if she would ever regain enough stamina to be able to endure the change into the same kind of monster that he had become.

~...~

Vlad did not emerge from the safe haven of the wagon until nightfall. Gathering his generals around the campfire, he formulated a plan. He assigned several pairs of scouts to go in all directions, seeking the location of Ottoman troops. Rather than waiting for the enemy to come to him, he would find the Turks first and attack them. One detail he kept to himself was that he planned to go alone, assaulting his nemesis under the cover of night to keep himself protected. Possessing the power of a hundred men, he would gain even more power each time he drained a Turkish soldier of his blood.

During the day, Vlad kept Willie company in the covered wagon while hiding from the sun. He assisted Maurus with cleaning and redressing her wounds. Sleeping when she slept, he would awaken at her slightest movement to give her water or to talk to her. At night, he paced the camp while the men slept. The hunger within had started to grow just as the gypsy had warned him it would. He could hear the heartbeats of his men as he aimlessly wandered in silence between their snoring figures. Looking down at them, he could see the warmth of their bodies illuminated in shades of orange and yellow. The blood coursed under their skin in ribbons of red that unfurled through their whole bodies. He could hear them talking in their sleep. Sometimes he believed he could listen to the thoughts of the slumbering soldiers. The hoot of an owl was as loud as a scream. Crickets were a maddening cacophony of noise to him. He could see anything and everything around him as clearly as if he were strolling in the midday sun. Maurus had not told him about the beneficial aspects of being a vampire.

Gannon stayed close to the wagon at night. He would occasionally go inside to check on Willie or to see if Maurus needed anything. The rest of the time he kept a wary eye on Vlad. He noticed how the man stalked around the camp like a hungry lion all night long. He had awakened at least once with the Commander standing over him, gazing at him like he was something to eat. Without a word, Vlad had turned to continue his bizarre night patrol. There were moments when he would swear that he heard a low growl or keening whine come from the man who held a predatory glint in his eyes along with an inexplicable red luminescence. Something weird was going on, but he had no idea what it could be. He knew that Maurus was a big part of it, yet he could not bring himself to question the man about the situation. Maybe, in the end, he really did not want to know what had happened to Vlad because the truth would be too much to comprehend. He also did not want to anger the gypsy because his herbal medicines that he was giving Willie was her only hope of survival. He would not do anything to jeopardize that despite his growing concerns over the unusual behavior of the Prince he continued to serve as a steadfast knight.

Two days later, the first duo of scouts returned to report that they had found a regiment of about five hundred soldiers to the southeast. The Ottoman battalion was traveling away from the Wallachian encampment. They appeared to be moving in the direction of Castle Dracul as if they planned to storm the personal fortress of their greatest foe to overtake his most personal possessions: his home and his wife. This possibility infuriated Vlad. The Prince impatiently waited for the sun to set. When the last hint of daylight fled they sky, Vlad turned toward the southeast.

"Where are you going?" Gannon demanded appearing in front of Vlad as he stepped across the boundary of the camp.

"Get out of my way," he ordered the impudent General through his gritted teeth.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," the younger man obstinately refused. He placed his fist against the Prince's chest when the man attempted to shoulder past him. There was a lingering odor that wafted from Vlad curdling the dinner in his belly. It was the stench of death. A barely audible growl emanated from the man whose path he blocked with his body. Sliding his eyes to the corners without turning his head, he saw that Vlad's lip had slid back to reveal his incisors which were elongated and vicious like a wild dog's.

"If you value your life, you will not stand in my way," Vlad warned him, pushing away his hand. He gave the stunned man a stout shove to offset his balance.

Gannon, shocked by what he had seen and appalled by the repulsive odor, stumbled backwards a few steps before falling on his behind. He stared at Vlad, unable to speak as he watched the man walk away. He flinched when Vlad unexpectedly whirled around to level his unsettling red eyes on him.

"Take care of my precious Willene. You failed her once. Do not fail her again," he charged the General. He smiled cruelly at the obvious hurt incurred by Gannon from the verbal jab. "Should you let anything happen to her this time, there will be hell to pay."

"What manner of monster have you become?" Gannon inquired before Vlad could turn away. "It is obvious you are no longer a man."

"I am the monster who will deliver us all," he answered, raising his arms in an imitation of the way Christ was crucified on the cross. "I will save my kingdom, I will save you, and I will save the one I love most."

"Ilona?" Gannon ventured, although he knew he was wrong. He swallowed repeatedly to push back the bile in his throat when Vlad laughed loud and raucously without a hint of genuine joy.

"I do love my wife," Vlad replied, turning on his heel. "But you know the one I love the most because you love her too."

"I don't. I mean, I do, but we're just fr- "

"You do not have to deny it, General Lupei. Her heart is mine and mine alone." Vlad looked back over his shoulder at the young man who was still sitting on the ground. "You will be her protector. Now go act like a good guard dog and take care of her."

_Bastard, _Gannon thought, biting his lip to keep the word unspoken. His fingers twisted into the grass under them. He would protect Willie because his foolish heart would not allow him to desert her no matter how much he hated the imperious man who had captured her love. Maybe the threat Vlad posed to her made him want to protect her even more.

Vlad took one step in the direction of his Turkish enemies. Five hundred of the bastards waited for him. The second step followed. They would provide gallons of blood and a tremendous amount of power for him. The third and fourth step came at a faster rate. A reckoning would be exacted. Each Turk would be recompense for every lash that he had endured from the many beatings he had received from the Sultan as a child. He began to run. They would pay for every mental scar he still bore from seeing men being tortured and killed during his extensive military training to be a child soldier. His feet moved across the ground in silence, carrying him with the speed akin to that of his steed. He would kill the five hundred to seek restitution for Willie as well. Suddenly his body felt like it was being torn apart. Little pieces of his arms were being ripped away, morphing into black winged creatures. His whole body exploded, transforming into bats who flitted off into the night in a squeaking, flapping black cloud to transport him to his destination with the ease and speed of the wind that carried them.

Vlad found himself standing in the middle of the Ottoman camp surrounded by sleeping soldiers who were unaware of his presence or the danger he posed to them. Confused and unsteady from his reformation into a man, he swayed like a hapless drunk before gaining his land legs again after his unexpected flight. He had come armed with only his bare hands and his teeth. An ache in his jaw reminded him of his new weapons. His gums tore as his teeth grew thicker and longer, developing into multiple sharp points. The metallic tang of blood in his mouth excited him. His stomach growled sounding like a feral beast. He was starving. Without hesitation, he reached down to seize a sleeping man by the throat.

Startled by his abrupt awakening, the man was unable to scream because Vlad ripped out his vocal chords and trachea with no more effort than it took to snap a thin twig. The sight of the crimson wave splashing down the man's chest and the spicy scent of the glorious red tide pushed aside all reservations he might have held for drinking the blood. Sinking his teeth into the gaping wound that was once occupied by an esophagus, he sucked heartily. To his great surprise, there was more to taste than the coppery tang he was accustomed to experiencing. There was a wide range of flavors encompassing an array of herbs and spices, some of which he had not tasted in years since leaving the house of the Sultan where he had been held prisoner.

Men in the area around him began to wake up, emitting cries of bewilderment. He dropped the lifeless body of the man to seize his next victim. A strangled cry escaped the soldier as he buried his teeth into the man's beefy shoulder. The muscle and blood tasted thick and delicious like a finely roasted cut of beef.

Finding himself surrounded with various weapons pointed at him, Vlad dropped the half dead soldier who convulsed on the ground. He decided he must debilitate all of the men first, then he could take the time to feed at his leisure. Closing his eyes, he took a breath relishing the strength pulsing through his body as the blood of his enemies flowed through his veins. His eyes opened, the color of burning vermillion like twin infernos in his skull. Grasping at the nearest man, he ripped off the man's arm then proceeded to beat him with it as the others gawked, frozen with terror. He massacred the army of five hundred one by one, leaving a trail of body parts and half dead men behind him. When he had laid waste to the troops, disabling them with mortal wounds, he walked amongst the men like a connoisseur at a buffet. Giving into his more childish and vindictive nature, he decided to play with his food. Upon finding a soldier who still retained a substantial amount of life, he picked up the soldier's spear to drive it into the middle of the man's belly - the same location where Willie had been impaled on a sword. With little strain on his muscles, he lifted the spear holding the skewered man who was wailing pitifully to jam the blunt end of the wooden staff into the ground. The man's cries of agony ended as his life was extinguished.

The scent of blood hung heavy in the air. Breathing in the stimulating aroma, Vlad's mouth watered. He craved more. His eyes hungrily roved the field covered in bleeding flesh all around him. He should eat his fill with haste while it was still fresh. Glancing toward the horizon, he could see the gray pushing back the darkness. The night was giving way to the dawn of a new day. Once he gorged himself on blood, he would have to seek refuge in one of the officer's tents until nightfall. Then, and only then, could he return to his own camp and his beloved.

Gannon Lupei had the audacity to call him a monster. Vlad was no ordinary monster. At long last he had been equipped with the necessary means to make this a safer world for the one he loved most. He had loved many women, including his cherished wife. But he did not love Ilona like he loved Willie. His emotions for her consumed him, reducing him to a helpless, irrational man. The only thing that frightened him more than the way Willie made him feel was the thought of being forced to live without her. Soon, he would create a place, a whole new life, just for the two of them.


	8. Chapter 8

Vlad returned under a veil of dark velvet sky to find a deserted plain where his army and the Gypsies had been camped. All that attested to people having been there were trampled grass and the circles of gray ash and blackened burnt wood from fires. Dropping to his knees, he pounded the ground with his fists in anger before raising his head to yell with fury at the black sky that was devoid of a moon and stars. Having no idea when they had left or where they had gone, he found himself befuddled and lost.

"Willie, where have you gone?" he mumbled under his breath. Tilting his head back, he sniffed the air. The wind had carried away any lingering scent trails that he could have followed.

The footprints left behind would not be of any help either. There were hundreds of them, and they fanned out in all directions from the camp. Some overlapped into trails that had been stomped into the dirt or had disappeared entirely from the wind ruffling the grass back to its normal position. Assuming the best of his men, unable to believe they had deserted him or their posts, he believed the rest of the scouts had returned and the soldiers had moved out to annihilate the Ottoman regiments. He continued to search for anything that might give him a clue as to which direction they might have taken Willie. The old Gypsy had been keeping her in his wagon with the wide wooden wheels. Immediately he started looking for the parallel tracks of a wagon that would match the size of those particular wheels. He sighed in frustration to see that there were dozens of tracks, but then he realized most of them were going in the same direction. The Gypsies had moved out as a large group in a completely different direction than that of the military supply wagons which were far fewer in number.

Vlad employed his preferable new form of traveling to follow the trail. His body separated into many bats yet remained as one. They colony of night creatures sped through the darkness with assurance, racing the dawn as they chased the flimsy clue to Willie's location. Vlad grew more positive as he followed the tracks that the Gypsies were headed toward Castle Dracul. They were taking Willie home. Perhaps their motivation for leaving, despite endangering Willie's life, was to escape the converging Turkish troops that were coming from all sides. The bastards were using his own battle strategy against him on a much bigger scale that would annihilate his whole army.

There was also another, more insidious, possibility that occurred to him and would be considered a treasonous act on the part of his most trusted General. Gannon had seen him as he was trying to leave. This sudden departure, purposely leaving him behind without knowing their whereabouts, could be his doing as well. The idiot. If the boy loved Willie, why would he take the chance of killing her? Maybe he had perceived a greater evil in Vlad and had been willing to risk it in a misguided attempt to keep her safe. She had nothing to fear from him - he loved her. Gannon had plenty to fear to from Vlad - especially now. Apparently the General had rallied the troops, issuing the soldiers their orders to pursue and destroy the enemy while he and the Gypsies returned home with the injured Willie. Rage enabled Vlad to fly faster, thrusting his many wings against the air to push him at a much greater speed toward home. Glancing it the sky, he saw it had begun to lighten to a pale gray, the same color of ash. He could not be caught too far from the castle when the sun rose above the horizon. A burn would heal, but he could not recover from being incinerated into a heap of smoldering cinders.

To his almost unbearable disappointment, the path of the wagons veered well before it neared Castle Dracul. Something odd captured his attention. It appeared as if a lone rider had taken off toward the castle, then the person had returned along the same way. The hoof prints of the return ride were more deeply imbedded into the soil as if there had been two people on the horse on the return trip. Perplexed as to what it meant, Vlad pressed forward to the castle to arrive before dawn. He had no choice but to carry on homeward, although he knew Willie would not be there. His time had grown woefully short as dawn approached. Shelter had become his top priority once again. His love would have to wait to be pursued when the protective covering of night returned.

Upon his arrival at the castle in the dreary predawn light, the servants, just beginning to awaken, had not yet made it out of their beds to perform their morning chores. Slipping into the back entrance through the bathhouse, Vlad bathed quickly in cold water to remove the sweat and filth incurred by traveling. He could no longer bear the scent of blood that stubbornly clung to his skin and hair. The chilly water turned steam as it poured down his heated body. Once he had been sufficiently cleaned, he snatched a sheet that had been drying on one of the many lines strung throughout the room. After wrapping it around his body, he stealthily skulked down the dark private passage Willie had always used to get to his room. Once inside he wasted no time getting to the window to pull the heavy drapes closed to shut out any possibility of the light entering his room. He dropped down onto his bed, spent and drowsy, still covered in the sheet from his impromptu bath. No one knew he was home so there would be no one coming to wake him up. Besides, the one who always came to rouse him in the morning would not be here. The vision of Willie's laughing eyes danced behind his closed eyelids. The remembrance of her gentle touch made his skin prickle and raise into goosebumps. Another memory flooded his mind as he gradually gave in to the siren's call of sleep. His mind's eye painted a magnificent picture of Willie's gorgeous nude body as he had seen it that night in the stream. She had been a majestic beauty to behold, like a mystical water nymph of ancient lore. He had imprinted on his mind the image of her lying unmoving under the rippling water as it had caressed her shoulders, her breasts, her belly, her thighs - all the parts of her he wanted to touch and explore. His last thought before parting with consciousness was that when he found her once more, he would not let her go for an eternity.

~...~

Vlad awoke with a start. Alarmed and unsure as to what had startled him out of a deep sleep. He did not have to wait long to find out. A scream of unbridled terror cut the air and pierced his eardrums. He covered his ears, sitting upright in the bed to glance around for the source of the noise in the hazy murk that cloaked the room. In the doorway stood a horror struck servant girl, clutching her rampaging heart. Fear had etched deep lines into her youthful face. He recognized the girl as the one Willie had handed the full tray of food to the night of the ball. A pile of sheets lay half unfolded and rumpled at her feet. Apparently she had been coming to prepare his room in anticipation of his arrival back home. _Dammit. This was not supposed to happen. No one was supposed to know I was here. _In his haste to sleep, he had forgotten to lock the door.

"M-M-Master!" she stuttered helplessly, her brown eyes as big as platters. "When did you return?"

"Leave me," he ordered, craning his head toward the windows. He could see yellow sunlight in a wide ribbon on the floor under the window.

"I must tell the mistress that you are home!" she exclaimed, gathering handfuls of her skirt to run out of the room.

"No!" Vlad yelled. In a matter of seconds he leaped from the bed and plucked the servant out of the hallway by her collar. He held her against his body, his hand covering her mouth so that she could not scream again. His head had nearly split open with a headache from the first two screams. Listening for sounds of movement, he tightened his arms around her to silence her annoying whimpers. There was no commotion in the hallway so no one must have heard her. Since it was the middle of the day, all of the other servants would be outside tending to the fields or hanging the wash. The only ones who remained in the castle would be the house servants who would be busy dusting or cleaning in other more widely trafficked areas of the castle.

Anger warmed his gut. Grumpy with exhaustion and irritated with her intrusion on his sleep, he continued to squeeze her as if he might force the life right out of her. However, that would be a waste. Vlad inhaled the scent of the young maid. Immediately, he detected the scintillating aroma of blood. She must be having her monthly menses. In response to the presence of blood, his teeth lengthened and his appetite surged. Pressing his nose into her hair, he sniffed again. So young and innocent; she smelled fresh and clean. He had no doubt that her blood would be delicious. Guilt flared inside of him, but only for the briefest length of time. His lust for the girl's blood summarily stomped the stirring of his conscience into oblivion. The combined fragrances of delicate flesh and decadent blood escalated his hunger to a bestial level. He ignited with a yearning to feed that eradicated rational thought. Opening his mouth, he sank his teeth into her thin neck, almost biting it asunder. She tasted sweet like honeyed nectar on his tongue. He sucked with avarice until she became limp in his arms. Once her body had yielded all of its life giving fluid, he thoughtlessly tossed her aside into a darkened corner of the room. She had served her purpose by replenishing his vitality that had been depleted by his journey. He used the damp sheet from his body to wipe away the blood that had spilled down his chin and coated his neck. He carelessly threw the sheet over her body so that he would not have to look at the mess later. Exhaustion clung to him, imparting a woozy sensation in his pounding head and soreness in his taut muscles. Glimpsing at the bar of light that glowed ominously on the stone floor, he lay back down to finish his sleep.

~\\..'../~

Gannon held the unconscious Willie securely in his arms as the wagon traversed the precarious Borgo Pass in the Carpathian Mountains. He prayed she survived this rough and tumble trip through the mountains. The wagon lurched and groaned as they bumped along the rock strewn path that cut through the mountain itself. The numerous bottles and jars lining the walls had been secured with lengths of cloth to keep them from falling from the shelves. Despite their restraints, they still rattled as if threatening to break against each other. The sure footed mule had been teamed with a group of four horses that lent him their speed as he led them with confidence through the treacherous landscape. They were crossing from Moldavia into Transylvania to reach the childhood home of the Gypsy King.

Maurus was taking them to the ancestral mountain hideaway that his family had abandoned long ago to wander across the land, making the world their home. Occasionally they had revisited the place to hold a family reunion of sorts that amounted to a month of drunken revelry. The branches of the family gathered from all corners of the world to attend this event which had not taken place for many decades - not since his sister had decided to stay with family of Dracul. Maurus would put forth the call for the family to come home. He had been reunited with his sister, Velika, so there was reason to celebrate.

The Gypsy King also welcomed two new members into the extensive family. Extending his hospitality beyond offering them a safe haven, he planned to welcome Willie and her faithful protector, Gannon, into the fold of the Gypsy folk. Maurus almost pitied the lovesick man who stayed by Willie's side so faithfully. He admired the young man's readiness to face the wrath of a monster by defying Vlad. He had been unable to deny the young man's request for help when Gannon had come to him soon after Vlad left the camp. Having no loyalties and a distinct dislike for the Prince, he had not thought twice about committing a betrayal of sorts by assisting Gannon with taking Willie away to hide her from the vampire. His own personal affection for the woman and his debt to her for bringing his sister back to him had made him all the more willing to help her. This might also be his way for atoning for his terrible trespass against God and man. Too late he had realized his grave error in giving Vlad the vampire's blood. He had been sure the wicked blood tainted by immeasurable evil would kill the man. Unfortunately, he had been wrong. He had no idea the Prince had been so strong - or had harbored such a deep and corresponding evil within his soul. The blood had found a suitable a host to rebirth the vampire, and for that he was truly sorry to mankind at large. It had not been his intention to release such a diabolical corruption of nature onto the earth.

At the moment, their journey was nearly at an end as the Pass opened up to a forest through which a trail was cut that would lead them to Maurus's home. There they would be safe and hidden from the dreadful creation. For a short time at least.

~\\..'../~

Vlad awoke with one woman on his mind: Ilona. He wanted to tell her good-bye. He figured he owed her a proper farewell at least. Then he would disappear forever - from her life and from his life as Prince of Wallachia. He planned to find Willie, declare his love for her once and for all, and to take her as his eternal bride. They would be known as the Count and Countess held her ring, and he would take her title. His family name could not be so easily thrown away his title of Prince. But before all of that could happen, there was something he needed to do. After donning his dress uniform, the one he had worn at the ball, he brushed his hair into gleaming waves. He untied the scarlet ribbon from his upper arm where he had secured it before taking his bath. Twisting it around his hair, he pulled it back into a ponytail. His acute vision made a torch unnecessary to make his way down the hall darkened by nightfall.

There were no servants in the castle. Apparently he had slept later than he thought, giving all of them time to return to their quarters to go to sleep for the night. Arriving at his wife's room, he paused at the door. Perhaps he should just leave without speaking to her. It would be the merciful thing to do. She would be better off assuming he was dead without ever knowing he had purposely left her for another woman and another life. Pushing open the door, he entered without knocking. Mercy was something he lacked in his nature.

Ilona lay on the bed in a stupor. To him it seemed he had never been gone because this was exactly how he had left her to return to battle. Her eyes were half closed and glazed from a mix of the alcohol and 'medicinal' herbs she had ingested. Both in great quantities on a daily basis no doubt considering the numerous empty jars and crystal liquor containers on the bedside table. Her extensive blond hair wrapped around her body, framing her breasts provocatively and covering her nether regions.

"How unseemly for the Lady of the Castle to be found in such a sorry state," Vlad sighed, feeling embarrassed for her. The sight of her bared body had no effect on him. Although she was stark naked, he did not experience the most minor of sexual twinges or a solitary stirring of arousal. As a matter of fact, he found her revolting in her current wanton state.

"Vlad?" she murmured in a gush of air. Her eyes, blue as the sea, sprang open wide upon seeing him. "Vlad! Is it really you? Am I dreaming?"

"Dreaming or hallucinating, Ilona?" he questioned her, pushing her hand away when she tried to touch him.

Ilona's flawless porcelain cheeks darkened with a blush when she pulled her hand back, cradling it against her chest as if he had physically harmed her with his gentle rebuff. "I did not expect you to return home so soon."

"Obviously." He kicked over the table in frustration, wincing as the multiple glass containers shattered on the stone floor. He had loved her once. Not too long ago he had remained hopelessly devoted to her. However, at the moment, he could not find the smallest trace of those feelings of love inside of him. Unsure of how long she had been this way, not having a single inkling of when his feelings for her had changed, he suddenly felt extremely confused and angry. He crossed the room to distance himself from her before he reached out to throttle her. Leaning out of the window, he sucked in noisy gulps of air. He could not explain why, or even when, he had become riddled with hatred for the woman who had held his heart in her hands for so many years. Gazing at the stars, he wondered where in the world Willie could be at this given time. Was she looking at those same stars pondering about his whereabouts? Did she miss him? His fingers clutched the windowsill carved out of the stones that comprised the wall. Was Willie still alive?

"You are leaving me. Aren't you?" Ilona asked, snatching her robe from the end of the bed to wrap it around her body.

"Why should I stay? You left me a long time ago...seeking escape in your _medicine_," he retorted, his fingers sinking into the stone and breaking it into little pieces. He stared at the crumbled rock in palms before dropping it and dusting off his hands.

"It is because of her, isn't it?" she muttered icily, leveling her equally frigid blue eyes on him. "I have known for quite a while you had your eye on her...and probably your wandering hands too. I am no fool. I am aware that you have been with other women. But her...she was different. She was the only one who terrified me. I knew, way back in a corner of my mind, that you loved her."

Ilona paused, hauling in a deep breath preparing herself to discharge verbal poison in hopes of killing his soul. The thing she hoped to damage had already been stolen from him, but she did not know it.

"It is your fault you know. I had turn to this - " She waved her hand toward the broken bottles of alcohol and herbal elixirs. " - to keep from killing myself. Living became almost unbearable knowing that you had real feelings for that piece of worthless rubbish." Ilona gasped when Vlad was instantly standing right in front of her.

He growled like a beast, his sharp canines gleaming in the candlelight that illuminated her room.

"Be careful. I am not the man I used to be," he warned her, backing away from her a few steps. The alcohol on her breath gave off a sickeningly sweet odor that had almost made him gag.

"So I see," she mumbled in return, clutching the robe closed at her throat.

"That piece of worthless trash as you referred to her in such an uncouth manner is actually a member of the nobility. A Countess to be precise. She is one of the the people you adore having around you because you think they make you look good, that they make you somebody. Being married to me should have been enough for you. I made you somebody because I loved you," he snarled, glaring at her with fury that sparked a fire in his eyes. "You were nothing, having no title of your own and no social presence whatsoever. You did not possess a single gold piece to your worthless name before your mongrel Father somehow weaseled himself into the upper class. He bought his title with stolen riches," Vlad proclaimed, a savage smile tugging at his lips when his wife cried out in surprise. "You did not know I knew that did you? Willie is a Countess by blood and by birth. She is more of a noble than you ever were. Actually, even without her title, she is a better woman than you could ever hope to be."

Ilona could not bear another insulting word. She slapped Vlad with all of her might, staining his cheek with a hand print as darkly colored as the wine that had been spilled on the floor. Her fingers flew to her lips to contain her scream when he latched onto her with his fiercely angry gaze complete with flaming red eyes.

Vlad seized her, opening his mouth. His fury deafened him to the shriek of terror that exited her lips upon seeing his mouthful of razor sharp teeth that were reminiscent of a shark's serrated teeth. Her scream halted immediately when his teeth sank into her neck so deeply that he nearly decapitated her. Her blood tasted awful. Tainted with liquor and herbal drugs, it was like acidic poison causing his stomach to protest by wanting to throw it all back up. Bitter and unappetizing, he could not make a proper meal out of her. Lifting his mouth from her neck, he dropped her onto the bed into a shuddering, bleeding heap.

"What - what - have - you - become?" she questioned between wheezing, strained breaths.

"A vampire," he answered bluntly.

"A vampire?" She inhaled then coughed, blood splashing across the snow white sheets of the bed.

Vlad stared at the beautiful contrast of crimson and white. He watched without experiencing any emotion as his wife struggled to inhale her last few breaths before dying.

"Damn you to hell, Vlad Dracul."

"You are too late, my dear. I have already been to hell and come back."

~\\..'../~

Willie opened her eyes and screamed. Her body jerked to a sitting position as another heart rending scream wrenched itself free from her throat. In her sleep, she had witnessed a woman being killed. The woman looked like Ilona. Could such a grisly nightmare be born from the unspoken desire of her own selfish heart? Grabbing her head with both hands, she screamed again to stop the voice in her head that sounded distinctly like Ilona's condemning a soul to hell.

Gannon rushed into the room with dismay pinching his face. He sat down on the bed, grabbing at Willie's flailing arms. Gritting his teeth, he braved the punch to the face to seize her wrists before he received another one. Despite her enfeebled condition, she gained the strength of ten men when she experienced these night terrors. She had described one of the dreams to him; blood by the gallons and gore by the heaps created by beastly teeth. There was no face behind the teeth, only the grunts and growls of a vicious animal. And red eyes. Two big red, glowing eyes sat above the pearly white teeth of death.

"Willie, Willie!" he yelled, trying to break through her fear muddled mind as she continued to fight him as if he were the monster in her dreams. "Stop it! It's me! I won't hurt you! I'm here to protect you!"

Willie stopped moving, allowing her arms to drop to the bed. Her vision, blurred by fear, gradually brought his face into focus. Once recognition had wiggled its way through the maze of terrified confusion in her mind, she lurched forward to throw her arms around his neck. Her body shuddered with sobs of relief and humiliation.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry to keep doing this," she apologized without relinquishing her hold on him.

Gannon held her to his bare chest, keeping the blanket securely between them. Skin to skin contact would bring far too much temptation, making him think thoughts he should not be thinking. She needed him to be her strength and comfort, not her lover. She had been suffering from these horrific dreams ever since they arrived in the Carpathian Mountains. He could not help but blame Vlad for her nightmares. Willie seemed to share an inexplicable mental connection with Vlad like he was somehow linked to her and his actions fed straight into her mind. His arms tightened around her as her body relaxed, becoming languid in his arms. He reached behind her to fluff up the pillows so he could lean her against them. Picking up the cup of water from the table next to her bed, he raised it to her lips. She had gained quite a bit of strength from drinking Maurus's mysterious potions. Since coming here, she had built up the stamina to sit up in bed for a few hours at the time. On a few occasions, he had found her standing at the window of her room gazing out over the mountain range as if she were searching for something. He had no doubt that she was looking for Vlad, hoping he would appear. Vlad was her true knight in shining armor, the man she adored and loved. He was simply the fool who stayed by her side, wanting to protect her from the monster the man she loved had become.

Sighing with dejection, allowing himself a moment to wallow in self-pity, Gannon put the cup down, pushing the covers securely around her body to keep her warm. The mountain breeze at night could be incredibly cold. It held the promise of fall invading soon, pushing away the temperate winds of summer. Rising from the bed, he walked to the fireplace to stir the coals with an iron poker before tossing on another piece of wood. He leaned against the face of the fireplace that had been made from stone cut from the mountain.

Willie would survive her injury. The power she displayed after having one of her nightmares gave him great confidence that she would make a full recovery. The only thing that concerned Gannon for her future was Vlad being a part of it. The Prince would find her eventually. When he wanted something, he could be relentless. Never one to give up when he desired a certain prize, Vlad had the tendency to do anything to get what he wanted. And he wanted Willie. For the first time in his life, Gannon knew with certainty he was fighting a losing battle. He did not like to lose.

Crossing to the bed, he sat down beside her still form. Still sweating, her breathing shallow, the after effects of the nightmare lingered. Using his fingers, he pushed away the hair that had stuck to her face with sweat. He would kill to protect her. However, Maurus had warned him that he could not kill Vlad. The man had offered him a way, a power and a curse on par yet slightly different from Vlad's to enable him to do so. He had flatly refused the absurd proposal. Sometimes, like now, he reconsidered the man's idea. But it would be a mistake. Why would he want to become a monster? Then he would be no different than Vlad. Did he really think that would make Willie love him instead? He often wondered if he should tell her about what happened to Vlad rather than keeping her blissfully ignorant. Maybe learning the truth of what Vlad had become would make her forget all about the man. She might also think that he was a raging lunatic, driven by jealousy to make up crazy stories. He leaned forward, covering his face with his hands.

"Have you heard from him?" she asked, placing her hand on his bare shoulder.

Gannon shivered from her touch because her hand was cold. He did not need to ask to whom _him _referred. Lifting the edge of her blanket, he took her hand to tuck it underneath to warm it.

"No. Nothing," he answered, cupping her cheek with his hand when sadness filled her eyes. He smiled when her eyes met his. Although he did not want to encourage her love for Vlad, he felt the need to say something to make the sorrow disappear from her golden green eyes. "I'm sure he's alive. I have no doubt that he is looking for you."

"Me too," she sniffed, giving him a quavery smile in return. She flipped the cover off of her hand, placing her palm on top of his warm hand that lay against her cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?" He lowered his eyes from hers, pulling his hand from under her palm. Standing up from the bed, he walked toward the door. If he did not move away from her, he would give in to the desire to kiss her.

"For being my friend. For taking care of me."

"You're welcome," he said, forcing a smile to his lips despite the fact she had shoved an invisible dagger into his heart. _Friend. _He had grown to hate that word. His eyes skirted over her face, seeing her eyes blinking slowly as if wanting to close. Of course she was exhausted. "I will be leaving now. You need sleep. Good night."

"Good night," she returned, waiting anxiously for the door to close.

Once she was sure he had returned to his room, Willie sat up, dragging the blanket with her as she got out of bed. She wrapped the cozy wool material around her shoulders as she stared out of the arched window. The moon illuminated the courtyard of the Gypsy castle that had been carved out of the mountainside.

"Where are you?" she spoke out loud as if the answer would be come to her on the cold wind that blew across her face.

Her chest tightened as she thought of the man she longed to see with every ounce of her being. She wanted to feel his lips on hers again, to be held securely in his embrace. Her heart physically ached because she missed him so profoundly. Being without him for only God knew how long had made her realize the extent, the height and depth, of her love for him. She had no idea how much time had passed. A week? A month? She did not know. All she knew was that this was the first time that she had been away from him for more than a day in eleven years.

When Willie had come to her senses enough to understand what was going on around her, Gannon had told her that they had been forced to flee the camp to avoid the enemy. Vlad had gone off on his own to fight a regiment of Turks. They had not been able to wait for him to return. No one knew if he was dead or alive. She knew. She knew he was alive because she could feel it.

_Hurry. Please hurry, Vlad. There is something I need to tell you, something I should have already said, _she thought to herself. Taking a deep breath, she whispered into the wind, wishing it could deliver her message, "I love you."

~...~

Vlad jerked, surprised by the unexpected sound. He closed his eyes, straining his sensitive ears, listening. Silence, except for the occasional howl of a wolf, floated on the cool mountain air. Shaking his head, he sighed and retreated into the crag of the mountain where he had decided to hide from the new day. For a moment he believed he had heard Willie's voice whispering the three words that he had craved to hear her speak to him for so long.

Vlad looked down at his hand. The silver ring gleamed in the moonlight on his gloved hand. As he imbibed more blood, took in the strength of more souls, he was gradually becoming immune to the effects of the silver. He had decided that he should master the adverse effects of his curse. Aiming to be completely invincible, he vowed that he would not allow anything to destroy him - not even God so religious relics would be the next thing to conquer. Only then could genuine immortality be achieved. Kissing the ring, he dismissed the tingle caused by the contact with the caustic silver. The stinging stopped almost as quickly as it had started. Smiling in triumph, his needle sharp fangs pressed into his lower lip.

"Do not worry, Willene. I am coming for you, and I will find you. No man, not even Divine Providence, will keep us apart. I love you."


	9. Chapter 9

A month had passed since their arrival at the sprawling castle situated on the edge of the of a cliff. The secluded, treacherous location served as a natural deterrent to uninvited guests or casual passers by. The only people who knew of its existence were Maurus and those under his dominion. Two stories high and sculpted out of the mountain itself, the Gypsy Palace was a labyrinth of rooms able to shelter dozens of people with space leftover for more. There were three kitchens and two bathing areas, all of which connected to the spring that flowed from the mountain. Cold and clear water, the melted ice from the perpetually snow covered peak, fed the never-ending source. The grass in the sizable castle courtyard grew green and lush, more cushiony than any imported rug. Pine trees and other evergreens that surrounded the area soared to the crystal blue sky. The place held an enchanting quality as if reality had been suspended. Willie sometimes believed that she had entered a magical land. Instead of elves and fairies, gypsies, who were just as whimsical and esoteric as these imaginary creatures, inhabited this wondrous place.

Willie's health had improved with astonishing acceleration since coming here. Upon their arrival, she had only been able to languish in bed for hours on end. Her fever disappeared the morning of the fourth day. Once the fever was gone, she was able to sit up without help and eat food finally. At the beginning of the second week, Gannon had taken her outside, sitting with her in the cool shade under the fringed branches of a juniper tree. The fragrance of the pine blended with the pure mountain air lifted her spirits and cleared her lungs. They would sit for hours, talking in hushed tones about what had happened while she was in an altered state. Occasionally she would ask about Vlad. Unfortunately, she did not receive definitive answers only vague phrases meant to pacify her inquiries.

Gannon did not have the heart to tell her that they had brought her here with the purpose of hiding her from Vlad. The drastic improvement to her health was an unforeseen and welcome response to being here. He believed the best thing to ensure her continued health was to keep her far from Vlad. However, when he would catch her lost in thought, seeing the sadness upon her face and hearing her heartsick sighs, he debated if keeping them apart would actually be the best thing for her after all.

By the end of their third week at the mountain hideaway, Willie could walk around freely, unaided by Gannon and unimpeded by her physical frailties. At times she felt inexplicably drawn to the steep and narrow passage encompassed by trees that comprised the single entrance into the strange new world that had become her home. Her loyal guardian would find her there then promptly herd her to room like a lost little lamb. She adored his caring watchfulness, but she abhorred his vigilance that bordered on possessiveness.

Willie awoke at dawn, pulling the covers over her head. She did not want to face another day without Vlad. Although Gannon kept her company being a great caretaker and friend, he was not Vlad. She pulled the blanket from her bed as she got up, throwing it around her shoulders because the cotton gown she was wearing would not be enough to ward off the chill of the morning air. Tiptoeing past Gannon's room that was right next to hers, she carried her boots in her hand to put them on once she was outside. She wanted to go outside alone. Although she appreciated the man's attentiveness and his devotion to taking care of her, she craved time alone. She needed to think in order to figure some things out. Something had taken place that Gannon and Maurus were hiding from her. That something had everything to do with Vlad. She considered the possibility that he was dead and neither of them wanted to tell her the horrible truth given her present weakened physical condition. At night while drifting off to sleep, her mind would stray to the man she loved. At times she would swear she could hear him calling her. A distant feeble cry across the distance that separated them would reach her heart loud and clear. She knew he was alive.

Her dreams had taken a radical turn from horrific nightmares to hyper-realistic nocturnal mental visitations of a sexual nature from Vlad. Although they were not frightening like the images of blood of death, she found the steamy imaginations of sex with her beloved equally disturbing in a different way. On occasion her painfully realistic nocturnal visions of Vlad had startled her out of sleep leaving her moaning and shaking as if she were in the throes of an orgasm. These passionate and salacious dreams were so real that she could feel his hands on her body, his breath on her skin, and his lips on hers. For hours, he caressed her, exploring every inch of skin with his fingertips, and delving into places deep inside of her with his tongue.

Willie groaned, an agonizing sound that hung in the cold morning air around her as her exhaled breath produced a cloud of white. She gathered the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, burying her frozen nose into the thick warm fabric. Her eyes opened to behold the sunrise as the yellow ball of a sun broke above the clouds sitting atop a distant mountain peak. The sun appeared to have been impaled on the top of the mountain. Tears flooded her eyes, brimming at the edges of her lower eyelids. _Vlad where are you? I miss you. I need you, _she called to him in her mind. If only the words could reach him, she knew he would come to her. Her attempt to blink away the tears of despair resulted in releasing them to slide down her cheeks in freezing lines.

"Are you all right?" Gannon asked, causing her to jump from being startled. He rushed to her when she whirled around in her surprise and toppled forwards. His strong arms enveloped her, holding her shivering body against his. "I am sorry, Milady. I did not mean to frighten you."

"Gannon, where is he? What has happened to him?" she questioned him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder which offered a pleasant resting place for her head.

Gannon was not quite as bony as he used to be. Since being here, they had eaten like royalty, feasting on wild game such as venison and pheasant along with vegetables and grains they had never seen before. Carrying her around from place to place had added substantial muscle to his frame.

"Please, tell me the truth," she implored him, standing up straight to look at him. Her eyes held his sincere blue orbs that swam in sorrow. "If he's dead, I want to know. Just tell me...please."

"The truth is..." He ceased speaking, putting one arm firmly around her waist to hold her. "I'm not sure what has happened to him, Willie," he answered, stroking her hair to offer her solace. Despite hearing the story about Vlad's transformation from Maurus, he found himself incapable of completely understanding what kind of monster the man had become. He was not ready to burden her with the awful truth when he could not comprehend it himself.

Recently, Gannon had taken a trip to the village located a few miles from the base of the mountain. The people there had been buzzing about the gossip of a bloody massacre that had taken place at Castle Dracul. Everyone in the castle had been slaughtered, even the lady of the house, Ilona Dracul. The Prince of Wallachia, also believed to be dead, had disappeared without a trace. The blame for the violent carnage had been placed on the Ottomans. Gannon knew better. He knew exactly who had been responsible for the demise of the Dracul household. The missing Prince was alive and well, most likely bloated with the blood of his wife and servants like a nasty tick.

As if the deaths of Ilona and the servants were not disturbing enough, rumors of a vampire had surfaced. There had not been vampire attacks in these parts for at least two hundred years. The people speculated as to what had caused the demon of the Carpathian Mountains to reawaken. One tidbit of gossip accused the gypsies. They had returned because they had been up to no good as usual and had performed a ritual to bring him back to life. Another said that some poor soul who had gone for a mountain climbing expedition had wandered into the lair of the creature to become a meal that had replenished the vampire enabling him to once again terrorize the people. On and on the rumors flowed, ranging from the ridiculous to the feasible. Nonetheless, all contained an infinitesimal grain of truth but were intrinsically wrong.

Gannon knew the gruesome, disconcerting whole truth. The ancient vampire had not awakened from two centuries of hibernation. The vampire had been reborn due to a new host imbibing his blood; the blood that had been harvested by an asinine gypsy who had been too curious for the world's own good and given to drink by another gypsy who had been just plain foolish . In the end, all of the idle chatter had been nothing but hearsay, snippets of gossip that had been spun into outlandish tales to frighten children and adults alike.

"Is he dead?" Willie pressed, lifting her head to gaze into his eyes that matched the blue of the sky above them. Although she believed otherwise, she needed confirmation one way or another.

"No," he replied with blunt honesty, his gut tightening as more tears trickled down her cheeks. Using the edge of the blanket, he dabbed away the wetness. Pressing his palms to her face, he tried to warm her cold skin. He knew she was feeling better, but there was no reason to take chances and risk a relapse in her health. "It's cold. We should go inside. We can come back out later when the sun has warmed things up."

"Gannon, what are you hiding from me?" Her cold fingers grazed the skin of his neck as they curled to grasp his collar. She had felt him shudder under her icy touch. Or was that a reaction to her question? The frigid morning air did not bother her. Simple answers were all she wanted from him.

Gannon covered her hands with his, imparting his body heat to her. He returned her penetrating gaze, studying the flecks of deep green and bright gold in her irises. "He's not the man you used to know." He took a lengthy, shaky inhale. "As a matter of fact, I don't think he's a man at all anymore."

"What do you mean?" she queried, her eyebrows drawing together over her nose in bewilderment.

Gannon smiled, a lopsided, half-hearted smile, to cover the pain he felt inside. He should not have said anything. His thumb rubbed over her forehead to massage away the wrinkles of worry that had formed. He did not want to explain this to her right now - or ever really. "Let's go inside. I built a fire in the fireplace in your room."

"All right." She reluctantly allowed him to lead her toward the castle with her hand clasped firmly in his. His palms warmed her cold fingers. She took great comfort in his physical presence at the moment, but his words had given her no peace at all.

~\\..'../~

* * *

Vlad stood at the double doors of the small village church. He stared at the crosses, one decorating each door, that had been carved into the solid piece of wood. His hands shook as he reached for the bronze door handles that had darkened in color through a combination of time and weather. Pulling open both doors, he boldly stepped inside willing to face yet another enemy more formidable than any he had confronted on this earth.

The smell of incense hung heavy in the air like a mind numbing perfume. Vlad swooned as the flames of the dozens of candles split into two and wavered before him. His stomach seized and threatened to force up the meal he had just made of a farmer and his wife in their little house on the outskirts of the village. Staggering past the bowl of Holy Water in the foyer, his boots clomped along the wooden planks of the floor leaving muddy tracks behind. Cleaning the caked on mud from his boots had been purposely ignored because he did not care one iota about sullying the precious hand laid floor of the church. His head slowly rotated to take in his surroundings.

There were a dozen wooden pews in the small sanctuary. Crosses and crucifixes made of wood, silver, and gold sat on tables and hung on the walls. A massive Bible lay open on the table at the front of the church amidst the chalice and silver plate appointed for communion. To the right of the table, there was a small desk. A large priest sat at the desk, his white quill paused in midair above the parchment where he had been translating scripture from Latin to English. The priest's emerald like eyes skirted over Vlad from head to toe. His blond eyebrow moved upward upon seeing the muddy boot prints on the floor. He had just polished those floorboards this morning. For hours he had been on his hands and knees to bring them to a gleaming, glass like finish.

The man seemed too big to be sitting at such a small piece of furniture. The young, blond priest was broad shouldered and most likely taller than the average man, but Vlad could not be sure of his musculature because of the loose black robe the man wore. His eyes followed the man as he stood to walked toward him.

The priest seemed unfazed by his unexpected guest who he towered over by almost a foot. His apathy stemmed from the fact the he was accustomed to unusual people entering his church at random times. Given its remote location at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains near the Borgo Pass, travelers of all descriptions were a constant in the area. Accustomed to bizarre strangers, frequented by a myriad of travelers such as gypsies, vagabonds, and criminals, he had grown jaded to the weird and just plain wicked of the world.

A smirk tilted Vlad's lips upon speculating as to what the priest might have done to deserve being sent to such a remote place. It had to be a punishment of some sort to wind up here in the middle of nowhere where danger always lurked. Upon closer inspection, he realized despite the man's imposing size, he was incredibly young. The priest could possibly be in his early twenties - perhaps twenty-one, the same age as Willie. He was most likely right out of seminary, and this was his first assignment. Vlad's smile widened into a ravenous grin. He had encountered fresh meat in two ways: young and tender in age and a fresh new priest answering his divine calling.

However, this place made him sick so eating did not appeal to him at the moment. His lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl. His stomach contracted with tortuous cramps as he resisted the urge to vomit. Dropping to his knees, he cradled his ailing belly with one arm. Too weak to rise to his feet, he held himself up with his other arm to keep from falling face down on the dirty floor. His pride was one thing he had always held dear. In spite of his weakened state, he would stubbornly cling to it.

The priest lowered himself to kneeling position beside the unusual man, laying a comforting hand on the stranger's back. The man with the wild black hair and even more feral black eyes hissed at him like a vicious animal. He obstinately refused to remove his hand as the strange crimson light illuminated the darkness of those eyes that were so empty they had appeared to be two vacant holes in the man's head. A cautious hand slid into the folds of his robe, gripping the handle of the sword he always carried with him. Forged from pure silver, the long thin blade connected to a short handle had served him well in providing protection from both earthly and ethereal evils. He was not typical priest. Belonging to a new and secret order of the Catholic Church, he was the first of his kind and this was testing ground. This area was rife with the unexplained and filled with superstitious, paranoid people who relied on a combination of formal religion and pagan rituals to keep them safe from all evils, real or imagined. He had been sent to seek out the bizarre and otherworldly things that did not conform to rational thought or religious mythology.

"How may I help you?" the priest inquired, squeezing the man's shoulder. Fear began to squirm its way into his gut. The thought of this stranger vomiting on the floor terrified him. The mud had been enough of an offense but regurgitation would be more of a revolting insult than he could bear.

"You are not afraid of me?" Vlad asked, puzzled by the man who seemed genuinely interested in offering him aid. Even if the assistance the man wished to give him was a quick trip to the door before he got sick, the priest's wish to assist him was sincere.

"No," he replied curtly, gripping the handle of the sword hidden inside his robe. "Should I be?"

"Yes," the vampire returned, showing his teeth.

"Hmmm," the priest murmured thoughtfully, helping the stranger to his feet. His fascination with the odd individual, his need to discover what kind of creature he had encountered, outstripped his capacity for real fear which was nonexistent.

Remaining unemotional on the outside, his mind whirled with many exciting thoughts on the inside. He believed he had encountered the bloodsucking demon, the vampire, he had heard gossip about from the villagers. God had smiled upon him to send the demon straight into his church. He had been praying for a chance to come face to face with this creature of fantasy and rumor. From what little he had ascertained about vampires, the demon should not be in here due to the rumored aversion of all things pertaining to God. Perhaps that would explain the vampire's frail condition and why he appeared on the verge of vomiting. He gazed at the man thoughtfully, considering his options while holding the handle firmly. "I will ask you once more, how may I help you?"

"Give me a cross, preferably one made of silver. I have a sensitivity, shall we say, that I must overcome. I have to become stronger so that these things do not bother me any longer. There is someone in this world very dear to me, and I must be able to protect her from everything," he explained, leaning against the pew behind him.

"Why should I help you?" he challenged the vampire, pulling the sword from the sheath with a metallic hiss. He held it in front of him threateningly not surprised that there was no reaction from the vampire. "Why should I allow you to live, to kill more innocent people? How do I know that you do not intend to kill this person...or me?"

"I have to be with her. I must protect her. I love her," he answered matter of factly. "Why would I kill you when I need your assistance with this matter?"

"Ah, you are doing this for love," the priest said, lowering his sword without putting it away. "What more noble cause is there in this world to fight for than love?"

The priest swung the blade with lightning speed, leveling the tip at Vlad's throat with the blade pressed under his chin.

"Do you really think I cannot kill you before you inhale your next breath despite my present weakened state? Do not mistake my hesitance to kill you as the inability to do so," Vlad warned him, standing up straight to shuffle toward the priest who was not intimidated. He could not determine if the man was being courageous or stupid. Despite feeling nauseated and shaky, he could still snuff out the man's life in an instant. "Would you prefer to die today or live to try kill me another day?"

"What is your name?" the priest inquired, an amused smirk on his face. This creature intrigued him. Captivated, he needed to learn more about this vampire even if it meant helping him develop an immunity to things that weakened him.

"Count Dracula," he answered using his new name. "I am seeking my wife. She was taken away from me against her will."

Vlad had not told a lie. His mind was so completely set on making Willie his bride, he already considered her to be his wedded wife. He waited for the priest to resheath his silver blade. Once the sword disappeared under the priest's robes, he asked,"Were you not taught manners along with useless religious maxims and eloquent but pointless proverbs?"

"If you really wish to receive my help, do not mock the word of God in my presence," he retorted acerbicly. "You can call me Father Anderson."

"Father? Aren't you a little young to be a Father, Priest?"

"Priest will do then, Vampire."

~\\..'../~

* * *

Wagons and people had been streaming into the courtyard all day. The family had arrived for the anticipated celebration. Several massive bonfires were ignited in the expansive courtyard, lighting up the night as if the mountainside had caught on fire. Instruments were brought out for music. People sang and danced while others sat around the fires passing around bottles of liquor while talking about their travels. A whole pig was roasting on a spit over one of the multiple fires while other kinds of meat were being cooked on metal grates over coals on others.

Although they were outside, Willie felt trapped and stifled sitting snugly between Gannon and Maurus at one of the fires. She wore a smile on her face but was far from being in a light-hearted, joyous mood. At least she was being kept warm by her watchful companions. Loneliness engulfed her despite being surrounded by people enjoying a happy celebration. Her fingers played with the tassels at the bottom of the crimson shawl swathing her body. Velika had made an ankle length, wide sweeping skirt of black velvet for her along with knitting her a sweater of the softest, whitest wool. Autumn had come to the mountains and along with it bone chilling nights arrived. Willie's body had not yet regained it's ability to regulate her temperature well. A genuine smile curled her lips when Gannon's arm moved around her shoulders to pull her close. She thought it was cute how he seemed to take advantage of her inability to stabilize her body heat. Affectionate and thoughtful, he was always quick to offer her a blanket, a coat, or a hug. His sweetness saddened her occasionally because she feared she would cause him an undue amount of heartache someday. When Vlad returned, she would be his. Where would that leave Gannon? Alone without his heart's desire; and that was not a good place to be as she knew all too well. She sighed heavily.

"Are you all right?" Gannon asked, placing his lips close to her ear so that she could hear him over the singing and laughing.

Willie turned to him, nodding her head while she pushed her frown upward into a smile. She cupped his softly angled jaw with her hand, gazing into his big blue eyes. Biting her lower lip, she barely contained the urge to say 'I'm sorry.' Leaning forward, she kissed him on the forehead. Her lips were cold on his heated skin. "I'm a little tired. I'm going to my room."

"I'll walk with you," he offered, standing to his feet.

"It's not necessary," she returned, taking his hands that were extended to her so he could help her stand. She figured if she did not allow him to assist her in some way he would be all the more insistent to escort her to her room.

"But what about a fire?" he pressed, taking her by the elbow.

"I can do it. I've built them before. I used to have to heat water in the bathhouse every morning. I've also built a fire or two at campsites on the battlefield." She patted his chest noticing the fast pace of his heart under palm. "I'll be just fine. You stay here and have fun."

Glancing around, Willie caught sight of the pretty gypsy girl with yellow blond hair and turquoise colored eyes who had been staring at Gannon periodically through the night. Willie guessed the woman's age to be close to her own. She envied the gorgeous creamy light brown color of her skin that was in direct contrast to her pale, freckled skin. "I think there is someone here who would be delighted with your company." Willie nodded in the woman's direction. "You should ask her to dance."

"You think so?" Gannon asked, glimpsing shyly in the woman's direction. His cheeks developed round spots of the darkest shade of pink when their eyes met, and she smiled.

"Oh, yes," Willie answered enthusiastically, pushing him toward the lovely lady who had begun to walk toward them. She beamed as the gypsy beauty took his hand and dragged him to the large circle of dancers in the middle of the festivities. If destiny possessed any compassion at all for tender hearts, she would allow that man to fall in love with the pretty gypsy woman tonight.

Now that Gannon had been abundantly distracted, Willie was free to go where she liked. At the moment, she did not want to go to bed. A hypnotic attraction drew her toward the road like it had many times before. She stood under the natural arch created by trees whose branches had become hopelessly entwined through the years. Vines of morning glories twisted around the branches of the tree. The purple blossoms were tightly closed waiting for the beginning of a new day to spread their petals. A cold wind whispered through the pines eliciting a shiver from her. She tugged at her shawl to pull it around her not only to shield her from the cold temperature but to ward off the spine tingling chill from the eerie sound. Expectancy filled her despite not knowing what she was waiting for with such excitement.

A wolf howled, and she jumped in response to the sad cry in the night. Willie passed through the gate made my nature, edging toward the road. Something was coming. The lamenting call of the wolf cut through the cold air again. He sounded much closer this time.

"Who do you miss? Are you crying for her?" Willie asked aloud. She understood the pain of missing someone, of not knowing if she would ever see her loved one again.

"Willie," came a hushed whisper.

"Vlad," she rejoined as if he had spoken to her.

"I'm coming for you."

Willie gasped, her eyes opening wide. Had she really heard his voice or had her overzealous imagination supplied the sound? She scanned the area, but there was no one there. No surprise to her. Disappointment caused by her imagination going out of control squeezed her aching heart. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned to go back into the courtyard. She might as well go to bed. At least in her dreams she could be with Vlad.

The sound of heavy breathing like a dog panting reached Willie's ears. Without turning back, she inclined her head to listen and waited. The clicking of nails on rocks came next. Could it be the wolf she had heard? Biting her lower lip to withhold a scream as the animal neared her, she stood still. If she ran, the beast would attack her. Her body stiffened when a cold, wet nose grazed her hand that hung loosely at her side. Had she not been petrified, she would have found it comical when the canine snorted and sneezed after inhaling her scent deeply. A wide furry head pushed against her palm as if requesting to be petted. Without looking down, she stroked the head of the creature noting the silkiness of his thick fur under her fingertips. The fur felt like human hair, more specifically, the soft, wavy hair of Vlad. The animal whimpered pitifully, pushing his big body against her leg. When he almost pushed her over, she lowered her eyes to look at him. She cried out, jumping away from the massive dog.

Willie had never seen such a large canine, and his gargantuan size terrified her. His head was actually much higher than her waist which meant he had to bow his head to press it into her palm like he had. He had been using his shoulder to nudge her hip. Two startlingly red eyes glowed in the dark like hot coals. Suddenly a second set of eyes appeared under the first. Willie remained silent, too fearful to make sound. What is this creature? When the third set of eyes came into view and blinked, she screamed. There was a rush of wind and a flurry of movement that engulfed her in temporary blindness.

Willie squeezed her eyes together tightly willing herself to wake up from this nightmare. Surely she had gone to her room to fall into a fitful sleep that was haunted by this dreadful apparition.

"Willene, open your eyes," a man's voice commanded her gently. The voice sounded remarkably like Vlad's.

"I'm afraid," she whispered, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. A yelp shot through her lips when icy fingers encircled her wrists.

"Willene, you silly woman, open your damn eyes," he ordered impatiently but kindly, sounding somewhat entertained by her antics.

Willie dropped her hands from her eyes, opening them to behold the face of the man she had longed to see. Extending her hand to apprehensively pausing before touching him, she stared at his handsome face. "This is some weird fantasy, isn't it? I'm asleep. Or I've fainted." Pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, she gushed, "My fever has come back. I'm hallucinating." Her eyes migrated from his feet up his body to rejoin his luminescent red irises. "You're not really here. Are you?"

"Yes. I am really here," he assured her, bringing her hand to his face to press it to his cheek. "You are not dreaming, and you are not hallucinating. I have come back to you."

His skin felt cool under her fingertips. Pressing her hand against his cheek, she verified that he was a solid being who did not disappear like a ghost spawned by her mind. "Oh, oh, it is you."

"We must leave here," he announced, enclosing her waist with his arm to pull her closer.

"But wait - " She paused, unable to speak. This was the moment that she had been waiting for, hoping for, praying for, and it had finally come. Vlad had come for her, and he was ready to take her away with him. Why did she not want to go? A prickly sensation of anxiety poked at the base of her spine and misgivings filled her brain. _"He's not the man you used to know. As a matter of fact, I don't think he's a man at all anymore," _Gannon's words ran round and round in her head like a warning.

"Wait for what?" Vlad demanded, embracing her. He held her to his body so firmly that he could feel her heart beating against his belly. He did not recall her feeling so small or fragile in his arms the last time he had held her this way.

"Vlad, I - I -," she stammered, searching for a word, any word, to describe her hesitance. Unable to explain, all she knew was that something did not feel right. Had he really appeared as a huge dog then morphed into a man? She closed her eyes as a pounding ache started in her brain that made her eyes feel like they were throbbing.

Vlad held her face between his hands, tipping her lips upward to kiss them. His lips contacted hers for a brief yet divine kiss. Her mouth was still just as sweet, maybe even more so since he had not kissed her in so very long except by touching her mentally. He had missed the intimacy of physical contact. His body responded with an unexpected pulsing between his legs that warmed his lower belly with arousal. He would make her his soon - in every way.

Willie opened her eyes, allowing him to study her completely. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it as a languid smile spread his lips stretching them back from his teeth. Immediately drawn to the overly long, excessively sharp looking incisors, her eyes widened as she stared at his teeth, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Her knees buckled, and she leaned forward limply, unable to hold herself up.

"Forgive me, Willene, I have done something terrible," he said, sliding one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders to prevent her falling.

"Wh-what are you?" she inquired, shaking in his arms while shock crept over her.

"I have committed an unforgivable sin against God and man," he proclaimed, lifting her into his arms in a bridal carry as her consciousness continued to gradually ebb. "I will ask your forgiveness now, not for what I have done, but for what I am about to do."

"What are you going to, Vlad?" she questioned him, powerless to move or scream for help. Her head lolled to the side, leaning against his chest as darkness encroached upon her vision.

"I have come to claim you as my own. I mean to have you all to myself, as my bride, my eternal mate," he explained making her feel more confused by the second. "I am taking you away from here."

Willie could feel him walking as he held her securely in his arms. Where was he taking her? What did he mean by all of that nonsense he was spouting?

"Can't I say good-bye? To Gannon and Maurus?"

"No, you may not. Forgive me and my selfish heart, but it has to be this way."

"But they will come looking for me. They will find you. If they find you, I fear they will try to k-"

"Not another word," he interrupted her brusquely.

"But - " she protested to no avail.

"Sleep."

That single word was the last one she heard before she fell into a deep, tranquil sleep. As Vlad spirited her away to an unknown location, she dreamed a blissful sweet dream of a future that would never be hers. Her real nightmare had only begun. Unfortunately, she would not be able to wake up to dispel this bad dream. At least she would not be alone. Along with her beloved Vlad, she would be trapped in a waking nightmare for centuries to come.


	10. Chapter 10

Willie opened her eyes but could not see. Darkness surrounded her like a blanket cutting off the light so completely she wondered if she were even alive. Had that devil dog, the hell hound with the burning red eyes, killed her? But she had seen Vlad. She was sure of it. Had he been the dog? Perhaps it had all been a bad dream. A sharp pain shot through her head like a bolt of lightning as she tried to sort through the confusing, nonsensical images and questions that assaulted her brain. She rolled over onto her side holding her aching head. Her eyes pulsated behind their closed lids. Once the pain subsided, she came to the realization that she was laying in a cozy bed. However, it was not the one she was accustomed to sleeping in.

"Where am I?" she inquired aloud, sitting up in the bed. Her arm extended in an attempt to find a bedside table or anything nearby within her reach. There was nothing but air.

"You are safe," a voice answered from the bleakness around her.

"Vlad?" she gasped recognizing his voice immediately.

"I have missed you, my love," he said, pulling back the curtain from the window where he stood.

The sudden entrance of the silvery blue light from the full moon that dispelled the pitch black blinded her. Willie shielded her eyes with her hand, squinting until they gradually adjusted to the illumination. She could only make out Vlad's silhouette in front of the window. The blanket that had been covering her slipped down exposing her upper body to the cold air of the room. She shivered.

"Where are we?" she inquired, pulling the blanket back up as he approached the bed.

"We are nestled in the glorious foothills of the Carpathian Mountains. I found a quaint little farm house that had been suddenly vacated by its owners," he told her, sitting down on the bed beside her.

The owners of this house had not left of their own volition. They were not even in this world anymore. Their blood had been tasty, fulfilling; the most satisfying meal Vlad had consumed so far. There was definitely something to be said for clean living. The fresh air and hard work did wonders for the body - and the blood.

"I wanted to find a nice little house for us. A place we could call home. To raise a family and live together for the rest of our lives." Vlad smiled. And that was going to be for a very, VERY long time.

"Family? Home?" The ache in her head increased causing her to feel more disoriented. Without even looking at him, she scooted around his body to get out of the bed. Standing at the window, she pressed her fingertips against the small rectangles of glass held in place by the wooden frames surrounding them. The uneven glass gave the outside world behind it a disproportionate, surreal look. Perhaps she had become trapped in a dream after all. Her body began to shake as the chill air of the room closed in around her. She was wearing nothing but the cotton slip that had been under her other clothes. The fact that he had taken it upon himself to disrobe her came as no surprise at all.

"Don't you want those things? Happy, laughing children in a nice little home of our own?" he asked, rising from the bed to go to the fireplace. He should have built a fire after their arrival.

"Of course I do. But - " But what?

Her reason for feeling so ill at ease was not clear to her. Something was not quite right here. It was not unlike Vlad to just show up out of the blue and take what he wanted. After all, he had done to that her before when he had taken her as a child. She took her shawl from the back of the nearby rocking chair to wrap it around her freezing body.

Was he really that vicious demon dog? Even so, if he wanted to kill her, she would already be dead. She did not fear dying by his hand. She feared whatever he had become. Her eyes studied Vlad as he built the fire.

His long black hair was tied back with the red ribbon she had given him. He was wearing a loose, plain, white long sleeved shirt and black leather pants. Those were the kind of clothes he usually wore so there was nothing unusual there. He was still wearing his boots complete with silver shin guards as if he had been going to a battle. It seemed he had been prepared to fight if anyone had attempted to stop him from taking her with him. Handsome as always despite being a bit pale, he seemed no different than he had always been.

But there was indeed something different. Willie kept a wary on him, intently trying to figure out what had changed. Her eyes observed each movement, every flexing muscle attempting to perceive what subtle difference about him bothered her so greatly. When he turned to her and smiled that was when she saw the reason. His teeth. His incisors were wider than normal, longer than they had been before, and curved ever so slightly at the tip. Her vision blurred and her head swam. Preparing to faint, she leaned against the windowsill. Her knees weakened and before she could hit the hard packed dirt floor, he was there - holding her securely in his arms.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together with worry.

Willie tried to focus on his eyes. Through her obscured vision she could see the red dots of his irises glowing ominously. A familiar and obnoxious odor wafted from his mouth as his breath puffed across her lips. She knew that smell so well because her nose had been assaulted with it so many times on the battlefield - blood. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled from the corners before she could stop them from falling.

"Oh, God, Vlad, what are you? What have you become?"

"Willene, I am truly sorry," he apologized, cradling the back of her head in his palm when her body became totally limp in his arms. He pulled her head forward to hold it against his chest hoping that this shock did not kill her. She had not lost consciousness, but she had gone pale and cold, her body trembling uncontrollably in his arms.

"What are you? Please tell me," she begged, unable to move. Although everything within her wanted to flee, her body refused to move.

"I had to do it. To save you. To be with you," he said, tightening his arms around her to hold her closer.

"Damn you, Vlad. Don't you dare make me responsible for what you have done. You've never done anything that wouldn't benefit you in some form," she snapped, her voice amazingly strong in comparison to the weakness of her body.

Vlad smiled despite himself. She had always had a strong mind that could not be conquered or devastated. That was one of the things that had made him love her.

"I will ask you once more. What are you?" she demanded, seeing his grin become a smirk.

Cocky and over-confident as always, she would love to slap him right now but her body would not cooperate with her urge to do so. She hated her body for betraying her in such a horrible manner.

"I am a vampire," he answered succinctly.

"Vampire? The monster from children's stories?" Her words dripped with disbelief. "Those are only stories parents tell their children to keep them from misbehaving. Even my mother told me about the monster who would suck my blood if I dared to sneak out in the middle of the night."

"Yes. I would be that monster," he laughed lightly, amused by her unwillingness to believe him. "But I do not suck the blood of bad children."

Willie hoped he did not think she would comforted by that admission. A vampire? How ridiculous! However, that would explain how could he could morph into a hell hound. But still...it all seemed so outlandish and completely preposterous. His teeth. Her hand raised upward, touching his chin. Her fingers moved across the soft hair coating his chin to reach his lips.

Vlad closed his eyes as her fingers traced his lips. She seemed to want to believe him, to understand his transformation, no matter how much it frightened her. He grunted when her forefinger pushed up his top lip. He held his breath as her thumb moved over his canine tooth. A tear slid from the corner of his eye when he heard the anguished sob from the woman in his arms. What had he expected her reaction to be? Had he really expected her to be happy about what he had become? At least she had not ran away from him screaming in terror.

"You are telling the truth, aren't you?" Willie sniffled.

"Yes," he replied reluctantly.

Willie pressed the pad of her thumb to the needle like point of the tooth. She hissed in pain when the tip pierced her skin. "Ow!" she gasped, snatching her thumb away to stick it in her mouth.

Vlad ran his tongue over the tooth, tasting the miniscule drop of her blood that had been left behind. The sweetness saturated his mouth, making him want more. He pressed his lips together to restrain the moan of desire. She had unintentionally stirred a yearning within him that surpassed any hunger he had experienced before. Not only did he want her blood, he wanted her body. The need to claim her as his welled within him causing a torturous pulsing between his legs.

"Do I disgust you?" he asked, sliding his arm under her legs to pick her up while winding his other arm around her shoulders. He carried her to the bed.

"No," she answered softly as he lay her down tenderly. Her belly tightened with apprehension when he sat down next to her, facing her. There was a ravenous hunger in his eyes as they skirted over her body. She held her breath when his fingers touched the thin strap of the slip that had slid off of her shoulder to push it back up.

"Do you still love me?" he inquired, his fingers drifting over her cheek. He could see the tears forming in her eyes as she stared at him.

"Yes. Love is not so easily destroyed, Vlad. Don't you know that?" She raised her hand to touch him, pulling it away when she saw the spot of blood on her fingertip.

"I should know that," he said, grasping her wrist before she put her thumb back in her mouth. "Let me. Please." He could see the fear and distrust in her eyes. Pressing his other hand to her cheek, he promised her, "I will not hurt you. I want you to be with me forever. The last thing I want to do is kill you."

Vlad raised her thumb to his mouth, licking off the drop of blood. Delicious. He moaned with satisfaction from the taste. Since becoming a vampire, he had longed for this moment - the moment he would be able to sample her blood for the first time. His eyes met hers, noting that they had become glassy with desire.

Willie could not take her eyes from his as he closed his lips around her thumb. Her breaths came fast and shallow as his tongue lapped over the tip while he sucked lightly. Rationality told her that she should scream and run, getting as far away from him as possible. However, a loyal heart and base sexual appetite, something far less admirable, compelled her to stay. A hot knot of arousal formed inside of her. Warmth, like flowing water, washed through her pelvis and streamed downward. She inhaled sharply from the astonishing strength of her arousal, squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to hold back the wave of sensual need.

"Will you be mine? Give yourself to me," Vlad implored her, bringing his lips teasingly close to hers.

Willie was not sure if she was being ordered to surrender to him, but she wanted to comply with his request nonetheless. "But what about...about marriage?"

"What is marriage but a few promises made in a church?" he retorted, his disdain evident in his tone. "I can vow to you now that I will always love you. I will always be with you. I will protect you no matter what."

"Will you? Will you really always love me?" she asked skeptically. Her body seemed to grow overheated suddenly, sweat beading on her brow and over her top lip. Dizzy and addled, unable to form a coherent thought, she clung to him as if he were a tether to keep her from floating away into the ether.

"I will love you all of the eternity that we shall live," he vowed to her, taking her left hand in his. "I have worn your ring until it no longer burned my skin or made me ill. That is how much your love means to me. I damned myself to hell so I could always protect you no matter what enemy we face. Let me make you what I am, and we will have days without end to love each other. Please, just say yes."

Willie stared at their hands, their fingers braided together to form a single unified fist. Her eyes focused on the silver rings on their fingers that lay side by side. The ring was a symbol of a promise he had made to her and had refused to let go. He now vowed to love her for an eternity. Could he really do it?

"Stronger together than apart, that is how we shall be," he whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek. "I have loved you for a long time. And I can love you for a long time to come."

"Oh, Vlad," she mumbled, putting her arm around his waist to press her body into his. "But I'm afraid."

"I know," he murmured, pulling her head back so he could kiss her. "Do you love me?"

"Do you really need to hear it that much?" She pressed her lips to his for another intoxicating kiss. She felt drunk; light headed and out of sorts. Her whole body seemed to have gone numb.

"One word," he whispered, sliding his finger down her neck. "All I need to hear is one word, and I'll make you mine forever."

Willie groaned as goosebumps popped to the surface of her skin while every nerve in her body instantly stood on end. She felt electrified, more alive than she had felt in an extraordinarily long time. Her lips puckered to kiss his face at the corner of his lips. Her mouth planted tiny kisses in a line to his ear. Climbing into his lap, straddling his thighs as she faced him, she whispered in his ear, "Yes."

Vlad slid his arms around her waist, pulling her firmly against him. He smiled as she gasped when the bulge between his legs grazed her womanhood through the gossamer cotton garment. His lips lay against her neck, relishing the sensation of the artery pulsing with her delectable, life giving blood under them. An ache formed in his jaw, deep in the bone. The agonizing flashes of pain pulsated upwards through his teeth as they grew. Thankfully, he had learned to gauge his bite strength to prevent an further accidental decapitations during his feedings. He would also have to be careful not to take too much blood from her. His intention was not to kill her but to transform her. Cautiously, he sank his teeth through her skin, nicking the artery. Her blood spilled into his mouth, and he groaned in appreciation.

"Vlad," she squeaked when he raised his hips into her, rubbing across her lower body saturated with sexual excitation. His teeth were so sharp that she had experienced nothing more than a mere sting when they had broken through her skin. Her arms enclosed his neck, holding his mouth to her while he sucked the blood from her. She cried out his name when an unexpected burning sensation started in her neck at the bite before racing through her veins. It felt as if fire ants had been dumped straight into her blood stream, and they were injecting their caustic venom throughout her body at once. It burned making her blood feel like hot lava flowing through her veins.

"Vlad," she moaned, sinking her fingernails into his back. "It hurts."

"I know," he mumbled against her neck.

The beating of her heart squirted a jet of blood past his lips that had lifted from her skin for only a second when he spoke. The blood flowed warm and wet down her chest, soaking her clothes. The cloying, honeyed aroma of her blood filled his nose sending him into a frenzy of need that spilled over into sexual yearning. Vlad pushed her over onto her back, tearing the bloody slip from her body. Seams ripped and material shredded in his mindless need to rid himself of his clothing.

"Vlad! Please, stop!" Willie screamed as he was about to forcefully shove himself inside of her. The blank look in his eyes, of completely deadened emotions, disappeared.

"I-I am s-so sorry, Willie," he stammered, calling her by her nickname which was something he hardly ever did. The terror he had instilled in her showed on her white face that was stretched into a mask of fear. He stared at the blood that streaked her chest leaving red trails over her breasts and across her nipples. He leaned forward, licking her neck to stop the bleeding from the puncture wounds of his teeth before she bled out on the bed. Once he stemmed the flow of blood, his tongue followed the red path down her neck.

Willie put her hands on his shoulders as his mouth neared her breast. The smacking sounds he made as he licked and sucked her nipples increased the salacious appetite inside of her. The craving for him exceeded her fears preparing her to become his completely. The coppery taste of her own blood inundated her mouth when he kissed her.

Vlad paused before entering her to consummate their marriage. He hovered above her in a push up position gazing down at her. Her skin had become white like the pure white petals of a lily. The crimson blood staining her lips and skin made a startling yet gorgeous contrast as if she were a work of art. What some would have viewed as grisly, he saw as enticing and provocative.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, lowering his head to kiss her.

Willie moaned, the sound getting trapped between their mouths. Her hands slid down his sides as he slowly lowered his body on top of her, sliding his hips forward to enter her. She cried out as he pushed into her uncooperative body that resisted him despite how much she wanted him. Taking in long, slow breaths to relax, the muscles began to unwind as he pressed deeper into her. It did not feel good - but it did not really feel bad either. As he moved his hips, her resistance faded leaving behind a sense of pressure and fullness that allowed for neither pleasure nor pain.

Willie closed her eyes, enclosing his slim waist with her arms while he moved inside of her. Her hands flattened against his lower back, concentrating on his movements as he pulled back then thrust himself forward. The low, guttural grunts rising from his throat excited her, diminishing her inhibitions. Her fingers slid over his buttocks that had become slicked with sweat from the heat of the room and the strain of keeping his thrusts precise as not to hurt her. The muscles tightened with each backward movement, releasing momentarily before flexing again to push his hips forward. Opening her eyes, she gazed up at him as he made to love her for the very first time. His pleasure was apparent from the way his mouth dropped open in a silent declaration of bliss to the way his eyes stayed tightly shut to savor every surge of pleasure rampaging through his body.

"Vlad," she murmured, touching his cheek. A cry of pain, short and sharp, escaped her lips when he unexpectedly thrust forward with astonishing forcefulness. The fingernails of her hand on his behind penetrated his skin and sank into his gluteal muscle as he pushed into her with pain inducing abandon. She removed her hand from his face, reaching behind her to clutch the pillow under her head before she clawed his face to express her discomfort from his reckless thrusting. He must be close to his end. At least she hoped he was so this would be over soon. He had a large member, and her virginal body had not been ready for it. She told herself the sex would get better as her body acclimated itself to his size.

Vlad lunged forward for one last grand push to release into her. He could feel the fluid pumping from his body with each subsequent spastic thrust of his hips. As he filled her body, he wondered what would happen if she became pregnant. He had always wanted a child. What would the baby be like? Would it be a vampire or human or both? She had not yet been turned so the child would not be a full vampire if she became pregnant now. The child could make a full transformation later. But who knew?

Ilona had refused to give him a baby because she did not want to ruin her body. She also did not want to have to endure the pain of childbirth which would have been an even greater insult after having had her figure destroyed by carrying the "little parasite" as she had referred to what would have been their child. Vlad had the suspicion that she had been pregnant a few times. Ilona had suffered bouts of a mysterious sickness that brought with it terrible fatigue and occasionally violent episodes of vomiting. After a visit from the good doctor who had given her a potion to cure the mystifying stomach ailment, she had experienced a particularly heavy time of the month then was back to normal. Never would she admit to ever having been with child. She insisted that it was a mere intestinal bug that had made her sick.

"Willene," Vlad murmured, looking down at the woman trembling under him. He lay down next to her, covering them both with a fur from the pile at the foot of the bed. He had always preferred the animal skin blankets to cloth coverings. Taking her into his arms, he cuddled her quivering body. "It will be better next time. I am sorry for causing you pain."

"Vlad, do you realize that I am probably the only person you have every apologized to in your life?" she asked, squirming a little to get more comfortable in his arms.

"That alone should serve as irrefutable proof as to how much I love you. I actually care about what you feel and what you think," he returned with a light chuckle, kissing her on the cheek. He gazed down at her momentarily before embracing her. "I really do love you. And the thought of living without you scares me. Nothing frightened me before you came along. I both despise and cherish the day you came into my life."

"Mmmmm," she groaned, too tired to be angered by his too honest statement. Besides, she actually understood how he felt because she had felt that way about him for years. "I share your sentiment."

"So Countess Dracula, my wife, my eternal love," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble in her ear. "Go to sleep and rest. You will need it."

"I will?"

"Oh, yes, for I plan to have another go at you as soon as you have recovered a bit. I want to please you. I want to make you scream my name in pleasure instead of pain."

"Oh, my..."

"I love you." Vlad held her tightly as if he would never let her go.

Willie would never grow tired of hearing him say that no matter how many times he repeated the words. "How long will you love me?"

"An eternity."


	11. Chapter 11

Vlad had just made love to his sweet, new wife and was kissing her from head to toe to prepare for the next go around when she wriggled out of his amorous grip. A smile pushed up the corners of his lips when he looked at her. She stood beside the bed, swaying back and forth in preparation to move away as soon as he made a grab for her. She was so damn beautiful and sexy - and all his. Her auburn brown hair was a tangled mess from wrestling with him in the most pleasurable way. Her pale cheeks were lightly flushed and her golden-green eyes sparkled with happiness. He had yearned to see her absolutely jubilant like this, to be the source of her happiness. Growling playfully, he lunged at her and as expected to dodged his grasping fingers.

"Come and get me, my husband," she taunted with a giggle, rushing out of the room.

Vlad chased her into the kitchen, both of them naked as the day they were born. They completed two revolutions around the stout, utilitarian wooden table that dominated the room. She squealed and laughed like a child while staying ahead of him, just out of his reach. That was where she had been for a long time - out of his reach - until now. His dead heart had come back to life in his chest, thrumming hard against his ribs. They ceased moving, facing each other on opposite sides of the wide table. He faked turning to his left, and she jumped to his right to avoid him. Using the advantage of his long arms, he reached out to seize her as she ran by.

"I am going to get you!" he threatened when she neatly turned and avoided his grabbing hands. "And when I do - "

Vlad halted in his tracks when he saw her hand grasp the sturdy wooden handle of the front door. His eyes slid to the curtained window of the small room that served as a gathering area for the family with a stone fireplace as the center-point. The tapestry like curtain that he had hung there to block out the lethal sun was pulled back from the bottom corner of the window. Reddish gold rays of sunshine entered through the glass to make eerie, bloody pools of light on the floor. The sun had not yet set.

"No! Wait!" he yelled, leaping toward her.

If she opened that door, Willie would allow in the waning rays of the last light of day. He had not explained to her that sunlight was lethal to them. The heavy door slowly swung open with a groan. Oh, no! Vlad lunged at her, gathering her into his arms. Turning his back to the door, he crouched down, hunching his big body over hers to completely shield her from the light. He gritted his teeth against the pain of the dying sun setting the skin across his back on fire. Groping blindly behind him, he batted the door closed with such a powerful slam the wood cracked.

"Oh, Vlad," Willie gasped, sliding out of his slackened embrace. Scrambling from under him, she circled behind him to see what had happened. Her fingers flew to her lips to prevent herself from crying out. The skin covering his back had been turned into a mass of raw red flesh that had been burned to black in small areas.

"Do not worry," he said upon hearing her choking sobs. "It will heal."

Vlad dropped forward onto his palms. Immortality did not include the absence of pain. Until his skinned healed, he would be in terrible agony. Thankfully the healing process should not take too long. His eyes centered on her tear streaked face when she knelt down in front of him. He sighed with relief when she pressed her cold, trembling hands to his cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," she sniffed, kissing his forehead.

"I know. It is not your fault," he assured her, sitting up to kiss her lips. "There are many things I must explain to you about our new life as vampires. The most is important one is that we can never, never go into the sun. It is the one thing that can kill our immortal bodies. Where there is light, darkness cannot abide."

Willie seemed to remember hearing something like that from a priest. Brushing aside the chilling words, she wedged her body under his muscular arm to assist him to a standing position. She had done this many times to help him bear his weight after being injured in battle or to help him to his bed after he had drank too much. Both had occurred more times than she cared to recall. He seemed to be a lighter burden to bear despite how heavily he leaned upon her.

"You are stronger. You will continue to grow stronger as you feed," Vlad told her as they proceeded slowly to the bedroom.

She wondered if he could hear her thoughts. "Feed?"

Willie knew what he meant, but the brutality, the heartlessness of the word, shocked her. They _fed_ on cows and pigs and chickens and vegetables and fruits; things whose thoughts or feelings or anything else they had never once considered. Vampires fed on humans, more specifically, human blood. Death was an unfortunate side effect for a human when drained of all their blood. She had seen that played out far too many times on the battlefield.

The horror-struck expression on her face showed him that she understood his precise meaning. Vlad had come to the conclusion that he should show her courtesy, treating her fragile emotions with respect. Drinking her blood had imparted many of her memories to him. He had been able to experience her emotions tied to those memories as well. The ordeal had been stunning and heartrending in its intensity as if her fear, her anger, her despair, and all of her other emotions had been his and not secondhand ghosts of the past. This experience had enabled him to view her with a whole new understanding. Not once in his human life had he cared about considering another person's thoughts or feelings. Now that he had become a vampire, he had no choice if he partook of their blood.

Turning to her as they entered the bedroom, he gazed into her eyes. A faint ring of emerald green luminescence surrounded her irises as he looked at them. "You will have to drink blood...human blood."

"But I - " Her words caught behind the disgust that choked her. "I can't do that."

"You must. And you will," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "When the hunger comes, you will not be able to stop yourself."

Willie caught her lower lip under top front teeth to keep it from quivering. She did not want to suck the blood of humans. The misgivings whirling in her brain and making her belly quake did not come from being squeamish about taking a life. She had killed before in the name of freedom and God, taking comfort that the murders were justified by the dual higher causes. Being a vampire, seeking nourishment by drinking blood, would require that the whole affair be more personal. A seduction would be in order, luring an unsuspecting victim to her. She would be close enough to see the fear in their eyes, hear their breathe catch in their throat as the fear took hold of them. For a moment in time, her life would mingle with theirs as her lips pressed to their neck while their precious blood flowed down her throat. She would feel their thundering pulse and listen their heart begin to slow as she imbibed their life force. It would be a far more intimate ordeal than using a weapon at arm's length to kill them. Her trembling hand covered her mouth as she fought the urge to vomit.

"Be careful of the prey you chose," he warned her, plucking her shawl from the floor to wrap it around her shaking shoulders. He doubted she was cold; the temperature, hot or cold, did not bother him much. "Their thoughts, their memories, their emotions...their very soul, will become a part of you. You will carry them with you for an eternity."

"Oh, God," she gasped, shuffling toward the bed on wobbling legs.

"He cannot help you, Willene," he murmured, sitting beside her to hold her. "We have become the damned. We are children of the night. We do not just live in darkness. We are the darkness."

_Where there is light, darkness cannot abide. _Vlad had always borne a gift for poetic words. Presently, he seemed incapable of spouting anything more than depressing, morose phrases. She wished he would just stay silent.

"I have become a creature of my most unimaginable nightmares," she whispered to herself, attempting to come to grips with her new existence. What had seemed so wonderfully romantic mere hours ago had become a horrifying concept as she learned more.

"But you are mine, and we will always be together," he snarled at her, growing angry with her lamenting introspection. "I have no regrets about what I have done. And neither should you."

"No regrets, no regrets," she repeated, trying to convince herself to have none. Besides, remorse had no place when an irreversible decision had been made. She lifted her head from his shoulder, taking his face between her palms to look into his glowing red eyes. "Show me. Show me more about our terrible and magnificent new life. Tell me more about the mysteries of being a vampire."

"Oh, Willene," he sighed with adoration, leaning forward to catch her lips for a passionate kiss. "I hardly know everything about being a vampire, but I have learned a great deal. I do know without a doubt that you are about to begin the most astonishing adventure of your life. And best of all, you will be doing it with me."

Self-centered and arrogant as always. There were some things that being a vampire could not change.

After dressing, the two of them walked outside, hand in hand, safely ensconced by the dark of night. The moon had hidden it's lovely white face since the moon phases had restarted their cycle with a new moon.

Willie squinted into the encompassing blackness in an effort to see. Gradually, everything around her began to lighten and come into view. For a while, she could only see in black and white and shades of gray. Eventually color started to seep into the objects around her. The grass became a fantastic fresh green, the bark on the trees various hues of brown, and the sleeping flowers were strewn about haphazardly in brilliant tints of blue and pink. She could see their rustic yet charming little cottage in vivid detail. Rectangular in shape, comprised of deep brown mahogany logs that had been packed together with black mud that had lightened to a gray color over time. It looked so splendidly ordinary. The land around them rose and fell like waves, forming lush green valleys that rose to gentle grassy hills dotted with trees.

"It's so beautiful here," she whispered. Her body tightened when she felt him come close, so close she could detect his presence yet their bodies were not in contact.

"Yes. When I first saw this land I thought of you," he proclaimed with elation, putting his arm across her shoulders. "As I looked across these hills, observing their gorgeous curves, the roundness of their peaks, all I could think of was..."

Willie jumped and screamed when Vlad groped her breast, pinching her nipple. She punched him in the arm, laughing in the midst of her disappointment. She had thought that he had been on the verge of saying something profoundly romantic. "Damn you, Vlad," she pouted, stepping away from him and using her arms to cover her breasts.

Vlad laughed, deep and hearty - a sound she loved to hear. When he wrapped his arms around her body from behind, Willie did not try to pull away from him.

"Listen to the night," he prompted her. "Close your eyes and listen to the orchestra of the darkness."

Willie did as he said, closing her eyes. A chorus of crickets blended harmoniously with the warbling of a night bird. Frogs and toads belched out soft little chirps or deep croaks. An owl joined in with an occasional hoot to offer his musical contribution. The breeze ran through the valleys and climbed the hills, rustling the grass and crinkling the leaves as it whispered a hypnotic 'shhhh' along its winding path. The blurp of water bubbling up from a nearby spring into the well added distinct clear notes to the night song.

"It's enchanting...the most marvelous thing I've ever heard," she gushed, gripping his forearm that held her securely across her chest. Everything was so loud yet harmonious and pleasing to the ear.

"It is absolutely spellbinding," he agreed, listening along with her. After relishing a few more minutes of nature's choir, he reluctantly dropped his arms from her.

"What are you doing?" Willie asked, her smile wavering in response to the serious expression on his face that set his jaw at a hard angle.

"I am going to show you something. Do not be frightened," he said. He closed his eyes, turning his face to the starless blue-black sky overhead.

Willie pressed her lips together to withhold making a sound when his body began to sheer off into little pieces that formed leathery black wings that beat the air. His whole being burst into a cloud of bats that rushed toward her. The colony circled her, swirling around her body. Their wings beat the air making a rhythmic 'thwap, thwap' sound. Their frenzied flight created a column of air that whirled around her like a tornado, lifting the ends of her hair and twisting her wide skirt around her legs. Her sensitive hearing could detect a faint shrieking from the animals as they whipped around her. It disturbed her that she could hear a remote portion of the usually inaudible sound. The bats began to bump into each other, reforming his body as she watched. Her eyes were riveted on him when the last bat slammed into his back, pushing him toward her as it assimilated back into his body. She opened her arms for him, encircling his waist as he moved into them. Her face pressed against his chest.

Vlad kissed her, jamming his hands into her windblown hair. "What did I do to deserve someone as wonderful as you? So brave, so beautiful, so loving."

"You are an extremely fortuitous man, Vlad Dracul. Count Dracula," she corrected herself, smiling up at him.

"Mmmmm," he hummed contentedly, his chest vibrating against her breasts. He swept her up into his arms to carry her back into the house. "That reminds me. I caught you. So now I get to make love to you."

Vlad carried her through the open door of the house, kicking it closed behind him. A smile spread across his face before he announced, "Ah, I carried you over the threshold into _our _home as my wife."

"So it's official? We're really married?" she joked, kissing his cheek.

He chuckled lightly, setting her down on her feet in their bedroom. "Do I need to build a fire? Are you cold?"

"I'm a little cold, but a fire is not required," she said, pulling off her shawl. Her fingers moved to the neck of her shirt to loose the buttons. With a flirtatious grin and coquettish dropping of her eyelashes, she said, "But you'll be warming me up soon enough."

Vlad stepped forward, pulling her hands away from the buttons. His well practiced fingers loosed the tiny pearl buttons then slipped under the fabric of the open collar to push the shirt over her shoulders and down her arms.

Willie sighed blissfully at the sensation of his smooth palms gliding over her skin. Allowing her lashes to fall to her cheek, she raised her mouth in a silent request for a kiss. A moan wedged in her throat when those same warm hands with long, strong fingers caressed her breasts. His gentleness never ceased to amaze her. She offered him her neck, not sure if he would kiss it or bite it to give her another taste. Whatever he decided would be fine with her. His tongue darted between his lips licking her teasingly down her neck as he slid his hands under the waist of her skirt to push it downward. She whimpered in protest when his tongue lifted from her skin at the base of her neck while he steadily lowered his body along with her skirt. Those fabulously silky lips grazed to top swell of her breast, following the curve down to the nipple which he nipped lightly keeping his sharp incisors far from it. She sighed again, long and lusty, as his nose skimmed over her belly while his hands drifted over her calves and down to her ankles. Her eyes opened to look at him when he raised back up to a standing position in front of her.

Vlad reached behind his head, seized the collar of his shirt at the nape of his neck to snatch it over his head. After tossing his shirt on the floor, he stood still in front of her allowing her to casually peruse his body with a curious and appreciative stare. It excited him immensely the way her eyes greedily, hungrily roamed over his torso. His breathe caught in his throat when she unexpectedly moved forward untying the leather strap that laced his pants together to hold them on his hips. He lay a heavy hand on her shoulder as she loosened the lacing revealing a triangular shape piece of flesh covered by wiry black hair. A feral groan rolled from his throat when her fingers curled over the waist of his pants to push them down. She repeated the same kind of movement that he he had with her, laying her palms flat against his skin while pushing down the material with the sides of her hands. A low hum of approval rattled around in his chest when her hands grasped his behind and squeezed. She had become quite brazen, but he liked it - a lot. He almost laughed at the way she weaved to avoid his erection when she pushed his pants past his hips and down his thighs.

Willie stood in front of him trembling with anticipation. Her eyes followed Vlad as he moved past her, sitting down on the bed. She took the hand he offered to her, permitting him to pull her down to straddle his lap. Her eyes remained on his when his hand slid between their bodies to grasp his manhood. At his prompting she raised up on her knees so he could direct himself inside of her. Lowering herself at a maddeningly slow pace, she chewed her lower lip as he slid into her inch by inch. Her lips met his for a delicious kiss while their lower bodies stayed motionless.

Vlad held her hips, his fingers trailing over her behind. He held her still as he rocked his hips under her. The movement created a warm friction that felt good to both of them. Maintaining a deliberate pace while steadily rolling his, he concentrated on her pleasure instead of his own.

Willie moaned as his pelvic bone ground into her womanhood, his coarse pubic hair tickling her clitoris. She pushed her body into his, feeling the heat between them grow, then surge through her body in a burst of pleasure. The sensation continued to rise, her body tightening around him as he ground himself against her. Suddenly it felt like something, hot and liquid, burst inside of her sending bliss coursing through her muscles. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she clung to him as she surrendered herself to the fantastic sensations that made her convulse helplessly and cry out like a wounded animal. Her chest heaved against his, her nipples raking over his skin with each panting breath.

"Wh-what was th-that?" she breathed into his ear.

"That, my wife, was an orgasm. Like it?" he inquired, kissing her warm pink cheeks.

"Mm-hm. May I please have another?" she asked, smiling at him before giving him a peck on the lips.

"Yes. I would be more than happy to oblige." A wicked, impish little grin played at the edges of his sensual lips as he thrust himself deep inside of her. "Oh, and you do not have to beg for it."


	12. Chapter 12

Vlad held Willene's hand, leading her toward the quiet, sleeping village. They were going hunting. This would be her first hunt as a matter of fact. She had adamantly denied the hunger inside of her long enough. Her stubbornness had almost lasted too long. She had grown weak and listless until she could barely move. He had given her his blood to sustain her, but it was not enough. She needed fresh blood straight from the body of a living victim. The blood cells needed to be new, alive to replenish her body and her strength.

The villagers had set up a night watch to look out for the sinister, terrible creatures that had killed members of their community. So far there had been three women murdered, all in the prime of their youth and beauty. The only sign that they had been attacked were bites on their necks or shoulders. The teeth marks were human with an unexpected and odd addition: two, sometimes four, puncture wounds amidst the tooth prints. They villagers were stumped. They knew no kind of animal could make those teeth marks so they sought answers from the village priest, Father Anderson. Surely this had to be the work of otherworldly creatures. Had the wrath of God come down upon them in the form a manlike beast?

The priest used the woeful ignorance of the terror-stricken, irrational people against them. His deceit was woven with the intention of protecting Vlad and his wife. He informed the despondent villagers who were willing to believe anything to rationalize the murders that demonic forces were indeed at work here. He warned them to stay inside at night, avoiding the forest at all costs, because that was when and where the demon wandered around seeking those who were out committing sinful acts. This explanation was easy for them to believe since one of the dead women was an adulteress, another a murderer who had killed her husband, and the last a thief who had stolen from her employer. He even used the scripture, I Peter 5:8, to instill the fear of God into them: "Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." That would keep them in their houses at night. Father Anderson cautioned Vlad not to come back to the village, that someone might see him since they suspected something foul afoot.

Vlad stubbornly and pridefully refused. This village was his favorite hunting ground. It was close to home and the hearty mountain people who scrabbled hard to make a living had the tastiest, most satisfying blood.

Vlad grasped Willie's hand firmly, walking across the uneven ground and through the trees as if they were taking a leisurely stroll in the afternoon sun. When they reached the edge of the village, he stopped abruptly to scan the area when he heard men's voice. He saw them standing under a newly constructed watchtower surrounded by a fence. A smile of morbid amusement lifted the corners of his lips. He found it humorous that they thought the pitiful little fence that appeared to have been made from fallen tree branches could keep him out. They built stronger and more fortified fences to keep their pigs contained. Silly humans. They never ceased to entertain him in one way or another.

The men were engaging in a pleasant conversation about the weather, then the Father's sermon last Sunday. They finally got around to talking about the mysterious murders that had taken place over the last few months.

Vlad could not care less about what the were saying at the moment, and he did not want Willie to hear so he began talking to her.

"They're changing guards," he informed her as one of the men took his lantern and started walking away. "They do this every night about this time."

After Father Anderson's warning to stay away, Vlad had come to the village every night for a few weeks in a row to watch the men. Humans could be so painfully predictable sometimes. They made themselves easy prey. He had brought her here tonight with this particular victim in mind. The young man who took over watch at this time of night seemed timid and would not put up much resistance. Vlad did not want to see Willie harmed due to her weakened state so he had chosen someone that would be easy pickings for her.

"Your first blood awaits, my love. Look at that man in the tower," he said, pointing toward it.

Willie watched as the man climbed the stairs then hung his lantern on a hook fastened to one of the timbers. Despite the darkness that cloaked them, she could see the man clearly. He was young, late teens, maybe as old as early twenties. He had wispy yellow blond bangs that covered his forehead poking from underneath the brown hat on his head. His skin was deeply tanned like a roasted chestnut from working outside. His eyes were brown and wide with fear. The poor thing looked terrified.

Willie gasped, backing away from Vlad until his arms dropped from around her body. "Oh, Vlad, I can't," she whispered, shaking her head emphatically. "He looks so scared. He looks like a mere child."

"You are not much older than him," he reminded her, reaching out to twirl one of her springy russet curls around his finger. "And you will never grow old. Unlike him. He will age. He will get sick, become infirm, have aches and pains that you will never have. His body will betray him and slowly begin to break down. Right now he is at his prime. You can help him stay that way. Do him a favor and kill him now."

"Vlad," she gasped, mortified by the way he was trying to convince her that killing the young man was a good idea. _Do him a favor and kill him now. _Had Vlad done her a favor by killing her? She wondered as her belly clutched, tightening into a agonizing knot of hunger. Through her special vampire eyes she could see the red lines all throughout the young man's body, the liquid movement of the blood under his skin. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. She could smell the damp greenness of the forest. Raising her nose and sniffing again, she picked up the scent of soap, hay, and sweat, mixed with the aroma of the beef stew he had eaten for dinner. He smelled delicious. Her mouth watered.

Vlad smiled as the green of her eyes seemed to light up, glowing dimly in the black night like the tapetum lucidum of a cat's eyes when struck by light. He backed away, careful not to make a sound. Time to let her go and begin the hunt. The hunger had overtaken her. She would not be able to resist it. He watched her stroll out of the treeline as if she had been bewitched by a magic spell. The allure of the blood had overwhelmed her senses. Tonight, she would feed.

Willie boldly approached the tower, not attempting to sneak up on the young man. The wind gusted up, blowing more of his magnificent, appetite enhancing scent her way. She walked faster, the red cape she was wearing billowing around her like a crimson cloud. Her stomach growled like a ferocious monster. She was starving.

"H-halt! Who goes th-there?" the boy yelled upon seeing movement, his voice wavering.

Willie did not speak and kept advancing toward the ladder of the tower. She pushed back the hood of her cape as she came into the light so he could see that she was a woman. He was armed with a crossbow, although she seriously doubted he would be able to hit his target because of the way his whole body was shaking.

"I-I s-said h-halt," he stuttered, aiming the arrow at her chest. The point of the arrow bobbed from her heart to her forehead, to her belly, then off its mark entirely.

Willie smiled at him in a gesture to be friendly as well as to hide her amusement. The poor thing. He looked absolutely terrified.

"Excuse me, young master, I didn't mean to frighten you," she apologized, staying at the base of the ladder.

"I am no one's master. I am but a humble stable boy," he returned, staring down at her. "And you didn't frighten me. I'm keeping watch over this village so state your business and be gone."

So brave. If only his lips were not quivering, his voice breaking as if he were enduring a second round of puberty, she might believe his courageous words.

"Well then stable boy, could you help me?" she inquired, placing her hands on the ladder. She climbed as she talked. "I have quite lost my way, and I am not sure where to go."

Willie stepped off the ladder that went up through a hole, onto the platform surrounded by a waist high wall. As if attempting to comfort a shy animal, she advanced toward him with her hand out, one gradual step at a time.

The boy squeezed his body into the corner of the watchtower, shrinking away from her like a scared mouse who had encountered a hungry cat. Willie took off her cape, tossing it over the ladder. Holding her arms out, she gave a small turn to show him show him that she carried no weapons.

"I won't hurt you." That was a lie, and she knew it. Surprisingly, it had fallen quite naturally from her lips. She put her arms down, moving closer to him until she was standing right in front of him. "I was hoping that you could help me. Maybe allow me to stay here with you tonight." Leaning closer, her breasts grazed his chest, and her hands rested lightly on his shoulders. "If it's not too much trouble."

"I-I-I can't," he stuttered helplessly, his face blushing a shade of the sweetest pink. "You can't stay here. Tell me where you want to go, and I will point you in the right direction."

"Oh," she sighed sadly, lowering her eyelashes. Her lips poked out into a pout as she raised her eyes to meet his. His eyes were the warmest shade of brown but full of sadness and despair. They softened, growing glossy and unfocused as she gazed into them. Raising up on her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear, "They say there's a terrible, evil creature who lurks in this forest. I've heard it kills women, takes all of their blood...every drop! Surely you aren't cruel enough to send me back into that dark, scary forest to my death are you?"

Vlad could hear everything she said and had to fight the urge to laugh. That young man had something just as horrifying and deadly whispering in his ear as the creature who lurked in the trees. Perhaps she was far more dreadful than Vlad because she hid the devil inside her behind an angelic face and beguiling eyes.

"No, but..." The confounded stable boy, visibly flustered, tried to figure out what to do. "I really shouldn't - "

"I'll leave before the sun rises. No one ever has to know I was here. Just allow me to stay until then. That's not too much to ask is it? Hm?" she coaxed, giving him a tempting smile while pressing her chest to his. "Will you stay close to me and keep me warm?" She caressed the boy's cheek with her fingertips, getting startled herself when he jumped vigorously from her gentle touch. "Awwww, don't be frightened," she cooed, bringing her lips close to his. "I don't bite...hard."

"My, my," Vlad murmured to himself. "I had no idea you were such a temptress, my precious Willene."

Being a vampire, particularly a hungry vampire, suppressed her inhibitions and brought out a side of her that Vlad had never known existed. He liked the new sexually aggressive, sultry, and seductive Willie.

Willie kissed the trembling lad cautiously and tenderly on the mouth. His lips were soft and compliant under hers. Keeping the kiss short, she drew back from him to look at his face. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing through his mouth, almost panting. Her fingers slid along the side of his neck, over the thick vein pulsing under his skin. His rapid heart beat was pushing blood through his entire body so forcefully that she could sense the vibration through her body as she leaned against him. Moving aside the collar of his shirt, she lowered her lips to his neck. Opening her mouth, she inserted her teeth through his supple skin, slicing open the throbbing vein to allow his blood to spill over her tongue. Her hand covered his mouth before he could scream, holding his head against the post supporting his back. She ignored the heart wrenching sound of the screams muffled behind her palm. His head shook wildly from side to side, tears streaking down his cheeks that had barely lost their baby fat. His tears covering her hand, making it slick against his face, did not deter her from continuing to drink his blood. His wondrous, delectable blood , hot and viscous, flooded her mouth and oozed down her throat to fill her empty belly. The boy's body grew heavy against hers as she pressed into him to hold him up while she finished off every last drop of his blood. When she had taken her last luscious sip, she backed away, turning her back to him before she could see his body fall. The dull thud of the young man's dead body hitting the wooden platform assaulted her ears as she grabbed her cape and scurried down the ladder.

Willie ran, tears flowing down her cheeks, as she retreated to the forest and Vlad's arms. She leapt into his open arms, sobbing sorrowfully. She could feel the boy inside of her. The very essence of him, his soul, crawled through her veins and into her brain. The mind-numbing fear he had experienced, the emptiness of his lonely heart, the memory of part of his day - brushing the mane of a large black horse - floated through her mind and senses. All of these feelings and thoughts were once his but now they belonged to her. His life, his vitality, awakened every nerve inside her body as his blood continued to surge through her.

"It was awful!" she wailed, looking into Vlad's eyes as he held her face between his large hands. "It was like leading an innocent, scared lamb to the slaughter."

_That is exactly what it was...and you did it with such ease and perfection, _he thought to himself but withheld voicing the words that he was positive she would not take as the compliment it was intended to be.

"It will get better," Vlad assured her, kissing her bloody mouth. "The assimilation will not always be so difficult. Just let it happen."

Vlad stroked her hair, kissing her cheeks. The salt of her tears, dried to his lips enticing him to lick them. He tasted the underlying coppery tang of blood. He kissed her again, his tongue pushing between her lips to sample the blood that lingered in her mouth. Watching her seduce that boy, taking her first feeding, had excited him more than he had anticipated. His mouth slid from hers, his tongue lolling out over her chin to lap up the blood that coated it.

"Vlad! What are you - OH!" she cried out when he jerked up her skirt and picked her up in one swift, effortless movement. Her arms and legs enclosed his torso to hold onto him as he braced her back against a tree.

They smeared their cheeks and chins with blood as they kissed. Clothes were torn and ripped to pieces until they were naked. Like two animals driven mad with arousal, they nipped and bit each others necks until they drew their own blood to mix with that of Willie's first kill. Vlad took her hard and fast, growling in her ear. Willie moaned and yelped in response to his vicious thrusts. She did not care that the skin on her back was being shredded by the rough bark of the tree. It would heal without a single trace of a scar.

Wolves began to howl in the distance in response to the supernatural lovers. The noise the amorous couple made rose in volume and pitch until their sounds matched the wolves cries echoing through the night. Willie screamed, breaking above the din of howls in pitch and volume, as she climaxed with her husband. The wolves continued to carry on, yowling and barking at the moonless sky, as Vlad lowered them both to the ground, holding Willie in his lap.

"That was amazing," Willie huffed, leaning her sweaty forehead against his neck while he held her securely in his arms. Her back had begun to sting but that was as much from the injury as the healing itself.

"Which part?" Vlad inquired. His personal favorite was the last part of course. Although the rest had led to their lovemaking being so pleasurable.

"The way you made love to me was extraordinary," she panted, kissing his lips. Her whole body tingled, inside and out. She had never felt so energized, so powerful. It was more than fantastic sex. "When I took his blood...the feeling was..."

"I know. I know exactly how it feels. And it is wonderful," he murmured, kissing her with such passion it was almost painful. His eyes held hers for an uncomfortably long, silent moment.

"What?" Willie chuckled nervously, unsure what to make of his longing gaze.

"Willie, I love you," he breathed, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

"I love you too. What - " Her question was cut off by another fierce kiss. His sudden burst of desperate affection, as if he were suddenly overcome with the terror of losing her, frightened her. They had shared that boys blood when Vlad kissed her. Perhaps it was the young man's lingering fear that made him act so strangely.


	13. Chapter 13

Shielded by darkness, Willie made her way to the little church sitting at the edge of the village. Vlad had gone hunting tonight despite the invitation Father Anderson had extended to them. He already knew the priest had invited them there to warn him not to go the village - again. Rebellious and egotistical, Vlad ignored the priest's many warnings. Father Anderson's advice went unheeded, but he continued to give it anyway despite his words of caution falling on ears deafened by arrogance.

Willie liked the priest. However, their first meeting had been quite frightening for her. Father Anderson, tall and wide, built like Vlad but bigger, his face had been set in a grim scowl and his eyes were as hard as the emeralds they were colored like. He had made an imposing figure, an unwelcoming and just plain scary man. Apparently he had assumed she would be like Vlad: vain, self-centered, and a possible threat to his life. Over the course of time, as he had gotten to know her, he had warmed up to her, greeting her with a smile when she came to visit and becoming more open and friendly - toward her at least - not so much to Vlad. But that was Vlad's fault.

Casting a sideways glimpse at the taller, sturdier fence made of boards cut from the tall trees that surrounded the village, Willie shivered. The villagers were taking more steps, pointless precautions really, to ward off and keep out the otherworldly creatures who preyed upon their small community. The new fence that had been erected gave the village a fortress-like appearance. It was sadly ineffective against a creature that can fly - not to mention that Vlad could effortlessly push it over with his hand if he chose to do so. And so could she for that matter.

Her steps quickened at the sight of the welcoming glow of the stained glass windows of the church illuminated by the many candles inside. The light beckoned her, issuing the promise of comfort in the form of warm tea and pleasant conversation. The priest was her friend. Her only friend. She missed Gannon. Many times she had been tempted to journey back to the top of the mountain, to find the gypsy castle to see if Gannon and the rest of her adopted family were still there. Were they even still alive? If they were, she doubted they would be at the castle. As gypsies, they did have a wanderlust and preferred to travel the world. Had Gannon gone with them? What could he be doing now? Had he married the pretty blonde woman he had danced with at the celebration? That was the night Vlad had come to claim her, taking her away to be with him. She had not considered what a lonely life of solitude awaited her. It had been the price she was forced to pay to be with the man she loved, in addition to giving up her life. Sacrifices she willingly made. Love always required for sacrifices to be made.

"Father?" she called knocking on one of the massive mahogany doors before barging inside.

"Ah, Countess," the priest warmly greeted her, his deep voice rumbling from the front of the church. He stood up from his chair where he had been sitting at his desk working on his never ending translating and transcribing. Meeting her halfway down the short aisle of the cozy sanctuary, he bowed in front of her, taking her hand in his to kiss the back of it.

"How many times have I asked you not to do that?" she questioned him, smiling at him despite her embarrassment.

"Oh, many times, Lady Willene but I will continue to greet you this way just the same. It's befitting of a woman of your caliber," he said, standing to his feet to tower over her. "Don't be embarrassed to be treated with respect." He paused, eyeing her for a long moment. "Or is being treated with respect really that much of a foreign concept to you, my Countess?"

"Father, it's just a meaningless title. Really, I - " She began to be abruptly cut off.

"Well, come in, come in," he invited her cordially, turning his back to her. He walked toward the back of the church to the door leading to the small living quarters attached to the building. "I wish I could say I'm surprised that your husband is not with you. Actually, I counted on him not coming tonight. There would have been a problem if he had. There is something I need to discuss with you. Sit, sit."

Willie smiled. She found it amusing how he repeated it twice when he issued her a genial order. She took off her cloak, laying it over the back of her chair. Taking a seat in one of the two wooden chairs positioned at the tiny table in the minuscule kitchen, she watched the large man as he expertly and easily moved about in the cramped space. She became anxious in the silence, waiting for him to speak, wondering what could be so important that he only wanted to speak to her about it.

"Your husband is a fool," he proclaimed as if this were a shocking revelation to either of them.

Willie held her tongue before vehemently defending her husband. Besides, the man was really was a fool. Vlad allowed himself to be driven by his selfish desires and whims which made him a fool. He ignored danger and shunned common sense, relying on his supernatural powers and immortality to see him through every situation. She could not argue with the priest about her husband's pretentious indiscretion so she stayed silent and waited for him to continue, to explain exactly what he was referring to. She pondered what her husband could possibly have done or intended to do to stir up the priest's ire.

"I have told him time and time again to stay away from that village," he said, turning to sit the china tea pot down on the table.

Oh, this again. It came as no surprise to her since Vlad had told her that it would be the topic of conversation. Willie studied the strikingly red color of the poppy painted on the delicate piece of bone china. Father Anderson had told her he had bought the tea pot during a trip through China. He had laughed heartily at her when she asked him, eyes wide with fear and disgust, if there were real bones used in making the special ceramic. Patiently he had explained that there were in fact actual bones mixed with the pottery but they were bovine bones. It amazed them both that such a ridiculous thing had horrified her. She was a blood sucking vampire. Why should she care about a few bones being used in the making of fine china?

"...not safe." He had been talking, but she had not been listening.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, shaking her head to clear her mind. "What?"

"You are not safe. Your husband's selfishness and stubbornness has put you both in harm's way," he told her, pouring the tea into a cup with a miniature poppy painted on it.

Willie stared at the flower. Red and black. The colors of danger, blood, and death. Her forefinger traced the plain yet pretty petals of the poppy. Those three things had always been a part of her life, even before becoming a vampire. Only now the danger had deepened. It all seemed disturbingly appropriate. Picking up her cup, she asked, "What do you mean, Father?"

"The villagers are dim witted and gullible, but in the end, this only makes them more dangerous. Especially when they get angry. They're angry now. Too many of them have been dying, being murdered as if for sport." He paused, sighing loudly while wagging his head. He acted like a distraught parent who was frustrated and ready to give up on a rebellious, wayward child. "For many years they have feared the mysterious creatures of the night who have been killing their kin and their friends. Their anger has now surpassed this fear. And when that happens, things will become perilous. They might pose a real threat to the both of you now."

"But we're - "

"Immortal?" he offered, slamming his hand down on the table in impatience. "Don't be stupid, Willie! You still have one major weakness. They _can _kill you. They will kill you and plan to do so as a matter of fact."

"Not if they don't know what that weakness is," she returned, calmly sipping her tea although her emotions were a swirling storm inside of her.

Decades had passed already. Sometimes it seemed as if the time had gone by in the blink of an eye. Other times, like this one, it was as if time had stood still and would never begin again. Keeping her hand steady as she set the cup down on the saucer, Willie folded her hands in her lap.

"But they don't know our weaknesses. How would they find out?" she inquired, gradually raising her eyes to meet his. There was an emotion there, a mixture of several, that confused her. She could see that he pitied her along with feeling anger, remorse, and sadness. She jumped when he reached for her hands, enclosing both of them in one of his large palms.

"Willie, you must understand that I am first and foremost a man of God. I am the leader of this flock, the Shepherd, and as such it is my duty to protect them," he told her, his voice soft, apologetic. His eyes begged for understanding as he gazed at her. "I am your friend, but I never should have been. I had no business consorting with godless things."

"Things," she repeated, allowing the hurt that single word induced to be heard loud and clear. To him she was a _thing, _a dirty, sinful creature of darkness. She pulled her hands from under his, reaching for her cup to take a sip. She could not taste the fragrant chamomile tea as it flowed over her tongue.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way, but you have given yourself over to the darkness, becoming an irredeemable being with no soul to save. I'm sorry," he apologized again, sitting back in his chair, his eyes downcast.

"It's true," she said, avoiding looking at him. "You have not spoken a single inaccurate word."

"I wished there could be a way...I searched for a way to save you from the everlasting darkness...but there isn't one," he murmured sadly.

Willie stood up, pulling her blood red, hooded cloak around her shoulders. She lay her hand delicately on his broad shoulder, feeling the muscles flex underneath his brown woolen robe. "Thank you for the tea, Father. I must be going. I shan't be coming to visit you again."

"Countess, if you ever need me, really need me, I'll do what I can to help you," he said, patting her hand.

"That is a very kind sentiment Father, however, I will not be taking you up on your offer," she returned, taking her hand from his shoulder. She pulled her hood over her head to hide her face as the first tear slipped from the corner of her eye. It hurt to lose her one friend, her one gateway to the outside world, the world she used to know and be a part of. "I would never put you in the position of choosing between your God and your people and worthless creatures born from the pits of hell."

"My lady - "

"Please don't call me that anymore."

Willie hurried away with leaden, shuffling footsteps, her vision obscured by her tears. She could hear his heavy footsteps resonating off of the wooden walls of the church as he followed after her.

"Countess Dracula, one last thing before you go," he called out to her as her hand rested on the brass knob of the door.

"Get out of that house. Don't ever go back there again. They have been watching you. The villagers have had scouts watching you and Vlad for several months now. They know where your home is. They know your habits. They know your weakness without me having to tell them," he informed her. "They are slow and naive, but not completely stupid as your husband thinks."

Willie sighed with relief. At least he had not betrayed them by telling the people that sunlight would be their undoing. They had figured that out on their own. Their level of cunning astonished her. Not once had she or Vlad picked up on their presence. Perhaps she had grown far too conceited and prideful herself, relying too much on her own immortality as well. She turned, looking at the priest one last time. "Thank you, Father Anderson. I shall never see you again."

"I fear you will," he returned, his face hardening into a mask of impassive emotion. "And when you do, I will be your enemy. I will be there to kill you."

Willie smiled, a sad grin bordering on despondent. Losing a friend was always difficult. "Good-bye, Father. I wish things could have been different but..."

"Me too. Farewell, Willie."

Willie opened the door, crossing the threshold of the church for the very last time. She walked slowly, aimlessly, holding her cloak around her. Her body was no longer effected by the outside temperatures, but she trembled from the cold deep inside of her. Don't go home. Where was she supposed to go? Perhaps she should make that trek up the mountain, to visit Maurus's family home. She and Vlad could live there because it was only inhabited once every century or so. The sudden howl of a wolf interrupted her thoughts, startling her and making her jump. The sadness, the mourning contained in that sound, resonated inside her with the way she was feeling.

"Where are you?" she cried out. She felt desperate, needy, and terrified of being alone at the moment.

Willie ran. She ran without having any direction or destination in mind. Blinded by tears, ignoring the leaves that scraped her face and the branches that pulled and tore at her clothes, she continued to run as if attempting to escape herself. Stepping into a shallow spot where the earth had caved in from the rain, she fell but only after twisting her ankle. The muscles burned, a searing white hot pain that made her whole leg ache.

"Ow, dammit," she hissed, rubbing her pain wracked ankle. If only the power to heal also brought with it instant pain relief. Unfortunately, sometimes the healing was almost as painful as the injury incurred. At least she had not broken it. Bones knitting back together was positively agonizing. Although she was not breathless or really tired from her midnight marathon through the forest, she lay back on the damp grass to stare at the stars until her ankle had completely mended.

To her right there was a rustle of grass. Sitting up on her elbows, Willie swallowed and waited, listening closely. There were no footsteps, but something was definitely moving nearby. At least it wasn't a man. Although she would be able to defend herself from a villager who might be out spying on her so late, she had no real desire to do so at the moment. She felt too sorry for herself to care. A low growl followed by a chuff filled the air just before the wolf appeared.

"It's you," she murmured, staring at the great big canine.

Massive and white, with two big arctic blue eyes, he was the antithesis of Vlad's hellhound form. This was no ordinary wolf. His eyes held an intelligence that went beyond the craftiness of a hunter, a preying beast. He was thinking, considering her, taking her in as if trying to discern if she were a friend or a foe.

Willie lay still, holding her breath as he approached her on soundless padded paws. She lowered her head, closing her eyes to avoid holding his steely gaze. Looking directly into his eyes would be seen as a challenge, a direct invitation to fight because it would be taken as a show of aggression by the wolf. Extending her hand to him, palm up, she balanced on her elbow to remain in a reclining position on the ground with her belly up. The submissive pose would keep him from attacking her. A wild animal was a wild animal and her affinity for the more feral nature of things enabled her to interact with them properly, meeting them at their level. She bit her lower lip to keep from gasping when his cold wet nose bumped her hand. It tickled when he sniffed her, his nose gliding from the back of her hand up to her forearm. She released the breath she had been holding when he licked the back of her hand. He had accepted her, receiving her as a friend. She lowered her hand, staying still as he continued to come closer to her, circling her body. He sniffed and prodded with his nose, burying his muzzle into her hair to take a good whiff. She giggled when he sneezed.

"Serves you right," she murmured in amusement, cautiously raising her hand. She paused with her hand near his neck. He licked her cheek as if telling her it was permissible to touch him. Her hand gingerly stroked his fur that covered her fingers when she slid them along his neck. She marveled at the softness of the hair that was like petting the fluffy down of a baby duck. A chuckle passed her lips when he nudged her with his big head, inviting her to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Are you the one, along with your pack, who I always hear singing so beautifully?" she asked as if he could answer her. "Why are you so sad when you are with your family?"

The wolf snorted, nuzzling her with his cool, damp nose. He licked her neck which made her shiver.

"Stop tickling me," she scolded him, laughing lightly as she patted his back. She could feel his body moving from side to side because his tail was wagging. He seemed genuinely happy to see her. "I miss my family sometimes too. Well, they weren't my real family. We became a family of sorts after..." She paused, leaning back to look at the humongous canine. "Why am I talking to you as if you can understand me?"

The wolf butted her in the chin gently with his head as if asking her to continue so she did. He lay down next to her, resting his head on her belly like a domesticated canine companion instead of a feral wolf. Willie babbled for hours while stroking his head. She talked about meeting Maurus all the way until when Vlad showed up at the mountain top castle to claim her as his bride.

When Vlad's name was mentioned, the wolf seemed to lose interest in her chatter and stood to his feet. He pointed his nose toward the sky as if drawing her attention to the fact that the dawn was coming. Afterwards, he slowly padded away, giving her one last glance before he disappeared into the forest.

"Right, a new day is beginning," she told herself.

Willie ignored Father Anderson's warning. She went home to the little cabin in the woods. Besides, Vlad would be waiting for her there. The sun would be up soon so she needed to take shelter from the daylight. Their one weakness, the sun, the thing to which they could not develop an immunity or defeat with their strength. The light always makes the darkness flee including the children of the darkness.

"Vlad!" Willie called out, bursting into the house. She peeked through the curtain just as the first rays of sunlight broke a across the ridge creating shafts of golden light through the trees. She leaned against the door, breathing heavily. Wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she sighed, "Just made it."

Willie had not realized how far she had strayed from home. She had been running from the dawn, hurrying through the forest to return to her safe haven. Before she could take off her cloak, she heard a thump at the door behind her.

"Vlad?" she queried, pressing her ear against the door. Her hand grasped the knob, preparing to open it. Then the banging started.

The dull pounding and soft clink of hammers beating nails, long and thin like spikes, into wood echoed through the cabin. Willie cried out when one of the nails stabbed her hand when it broke through the door after being driven through the jamb. She pulled on the knob, but the door wouldn't budge. It had been nailed shut. The hammering continued, beating a rhythm inside her brain. The windows were being sealed as well. She had been so distracted by her hasty retreat from the sun that she did not notice the men following her. Her hand pressed to her ears to protect her sensitive hearing. Almost as quickly as it had started, the banging stopped. Cautiously, she dropped her hands from her ears. The eerie silence that stretched out for several minutes, or possibly seconds that seemed like minutes, made her belly turn somersaults of apprehension. She was now trapped inside the house, not only by the windows and doors being nailed shut, but by the sun lighting up the world outside.

"Vlad, where are you?" Willie sniffled, huddling against the huge chopping block in the kitchen.

Something crashed through the kitchen window, hitting the butcher block with another sound of shattering of glass. Fire exploded and lit up the darkened interior of the house. The villagers had constructed a firebomb using a glass bottle filled with oil, stuffing an oil soaked rag in the neck that had been lit on fire to act as the fuse. When the bottle broke, spreading the lamp oil, it had all caught flame turning the kitchen into an inferno. Some of the oil had splattered on her as well lighting her arm and face on fire instantly. She screamed in pain and surprise, slapping at the flames to douse them before they could spread across her cloak.

Father Anderson had warned her, but she had no idea that they had planned to act so soon. The villagers had come to kill the horrifying creatures who had been terrorizing their village to stop the carnage, to ensure that they would not lose anymore family members or friends. Had they captured Vlad? Was he already dead?

More firebombs were thrown through the windows, setting fires throughout the house. The sunlight was also finding its way in since the curtains were being incinerated. The flames crawled across the floor and walls like a living, breathing animal that was coming to devour her. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain. Her body would gradually be destroyed, and her immortality sapped away one soul at a time. She would live many lives and deaths until she burned completely and irreversibly to ashes. This must be what hell would be like. Enduring the endless fire, being burned to death before being recreated to experience the torment all over again, a hundred times, a thousand times, an infinite number of times. She had not realized until this moment that she had been forced into a hell on earth. She had stupidly, willingly, and gladly followed the man she loved into Hell. Why? Because he had done it for her first.

Willie had to at least try to survive. After struggling to her feet, she stumbled to the door on wobbly knees. Her hands paused at the knob of the door. How long could she survive in the sun before she was burned to the point of no return? There was a loud crack then part of the roof caved in, falling next to her and showering her with sparks. Her clothing smoldered, and she sucked in smoke that choked her and scalded her lungs. She had to get out, take a chance of going into the sun because if she stayed here she would definitely die. Either way she would be burned to death but at least she had a fighting chance if she fled. Her hands grasped the metal doorknob despite the fact it had been heated by the fire and seared her palms. She twisted and pulled, screaming in frustration as she ripped the door from its hinges. After flinging it aside, she quickly covered her head with her hood, pulling the cloak around her before dashing into the dazzling light. It was beautiful but lethal. She had not seen the light of day for nearly half a century.

"There she goes!" one man yelled. Other hostile cries followed. "Don't let her get away! Grab her! She has to die!"

Willie ran, able to outpace them all but not without placing a strain on her distressed body. Her lungs burned, crying out for oxygen not only from damage caused by inhaling smoke and heat but also due to her rapid, panicked flight. She kept her body covered, preventing the sun from touching her skin directly. Occasionally her grip would slacken due to her tiring body or a tree branch would catch her cloak, pulling it back to expose her skin. The sun burned just like the fire, setting her skin aflame, turning its creamy whiteness into singed blackness or gray ashes that floated away on the breeze. Tears streaked down her cheeks, evaporating in the heat that surrounded her face under the protective hood of the cloak. She was still dying. Fleeing deep into the forest where the trees grew so densely they created a canopy that shut out the sunlight, she sought the darkness and finally found it.

A cave of sorts had been created by fallen trees over which a tangle of vines had grown. Dropping to her knees, she crawled inside the small natural hovel that was cool and moist inside. Pushing back the hood of her cloak, she pressed her hot, sweaty cheek against the dew covered leaves seeking their refreshing coolness. She shrugged out of her cloak to expose her injured skin to the damp, naturally chilled air. Some of the wounds leaked blood amidst the charred and blackened flesh. Nasty looking blisters had raised over most of her body from the heat and imminent threat of burning posed by the fire and sun. There were chunks of flesh missing from her body entirely where the full sunlight had scorched it to ashes. She was in so much pain that she had gone numb. She was thankful for that, although she could not be sure that she was not well on her way to dying instead of healing.

The sound of sobbing, pathetic and raw, pouring out emotional torment in additional to physical agony met her ears. It took her several minutes for her to realize that she was listening to herself cry. Her vision blurred from tears and a black haze of unconsciousness started to seep into the edges.

"Sleep. Just go to sleep, Willie," a voice, disembodied and lilting, gently commanded her. She was not sure if the voice was in her head or if someone had found her. The voice belonged to a man. It sounded familiar, but it was not Vlad. "Sleep, Willie. Your body needs to heal itself. Everything will be all right."

"But I'm afraid," she sniveled, closing her eyes that had become sightless. She jumped when a hand touched her head, patting it as if she were a child.

"Don't be afraid. You won't die. I'll be here with you to protect you," he promised her.

"Who are you?" she asked as he began to affectionately stroke her hair that was a matted, filthy mess from soot and debris.

"A friend," he responded vaguely.

"Tell me your name." If he answered, Willie could not hear. Her ears were ringing, deafening her with a monotonous whining sound. She quickly lost consciousness thereafter as her body shut down what it deemed unnecessary functions in an effort to heal itself.

Willie dreamed of another time and place: a time when she had been happy in a magnificent place that had been like a dream itself. There had been a man there. A handsome man who loved her, but he was not the one for whom her silly, reckless heart yearned. He had been her friend and her protector. He had always been her hero, but he would never be her husband. Right now, she needed a hero the most.


	14. Chapter 14

Vlad spent the night haunting the village like a specter. Early in the morning, not long before dawn, a woman appeared. His patience bred from stubbornness had been what kept him lingering for so long. He had a taste for blood and meant to get it. The woman was stout and firmly muscled, a milkmaid, carrying her pail with her as she strode casually toward the barn where the cows were kept at night. The villagers always took in the livestock should the bloodsucking pariah terrorizing them decide to have a meal on the hoof. Vlad found the very idea of drinking the blood of animals repugnant and downright vile. Their blood lacked an extremely vital ingredient that he needed to maintain his spurious existence: a soul. As he followed the woman, his eyes tracing her voluptuous curves, another appetite stirred as well. Distracted, consumed by his physical desires, he did not question why she found it necessary to milk the cows way before dawn. A smile tugged the corners of his lips upward as she lifted the latch of the barn door, leaving it open as if inviting him to follow her inside. He had never needed permission before to pursue his prey and was not seeking it now as he boldly swung the door open wide to announce his presence.

The woman whirled around to gape at him in stunned bewilderment, her eyes wide and full of fear. Oh, how he loved that look! An electric shock of excitement bounced across his nerve endings giving him the delicious illusion of being completely alive again. His heart beat faster, thrumming in his ears, as he strode forward to reach her in just a few steps. Clamping one hand over her mouth before she could scream, he squeezed the back of her neck with his other hand to hold her still. His head swam from the euphoria evoked by her terror. If he had been in control of his senses, he would have noticed the difference in sound of the boards underneath his feet as he walked. The area where he presently stood had sounded hollow, as if there was no ground underneath. Had he not allowed his selfish desires to obliterate his awareness, he would have detected the presence of the men hiding inside the stalls. If the aroma of her blood had not intoxicated him, he would have at least smelled them despite the scent of the horses and cows hiding their scent.

"Shhhh," he hissed, lowering his face until the tip of his nose grazed hers. He could detect the fear wafting off of her like a pleasant perfume that mingled with the smell of fresh hay and the stench of manure. He was vaguely aware of the conflicting array of scents which became overwhelming and made him dizzy. Gazing into her horror stricken eyes that were the same color of the blue sky that he had not seen in many decades, he whispered, "Don't make a sound. Do you understand me?"

The woman nodded mutely, her eyes never leaving his. A tiny pinpoint of red light appeared in the middle of his eyes, growing in size until the black holes in his head became mesmerizing dual fires. He was hypnotizing her, casting a spell of sorts to bring her under his control so that she would not cry out or fight him. As a matter of fact, the women he chose almost always enjoyed giving their lives to him because it was such climactic, pleasurable experience despite the agony of death. When her body relaxed into his, her firm breasts pressing against his chest as her knees gave way, he knew he had her in his grasp both physically and mentally.

"There we go. That's a good girl," he cooed, lifting his hand from her mouth. Before he could enclose her waist to get a firmer hold on her to drink her blood, she was snatched from his arms.

A low growl escaped him, his head whipping from side to side in confusion. Men using farm implements as improvised weapons approached him from all sides. To further deepen his dismay that bordered on dazed hysteria, the floor shifted under his feet then disappeared entirely. He was falling. The fall was extremely short with an unimaginably painful landing.

Vlad roared in fury and agony, his thunderous voice making the weathered old barn shake from the sound. He had been impaled by eight foot tall wooden stakes that had been coated with silver dust. One stake had entered the bottom of one of his boot and exited at his hip. Another one had skewered him at an angle from his groin to his shoulder. The third spike ran him through from the other side, entering at his outer thigh and running clear through to his other shoulder, poking through at his neck where it had pierced the artery. His blood poured from his wounds, drenching his clothes to trickle down the stakes where it soaked into the soft dirt floor of the ten foot deep pit. He was dying slowly, in horrible physical torment and mental anguish, from his own favored method of torturous murder.

"No," he murmured in disbelief, his voice a hoarse whisper. "This can't be happening."

"So this is the evil creature?" one man asked, leaning over the opening to see him more clearly.

"Oh, my God! It looks human," another man interjected, disgust evident in his voice.

Vlad could not see the men due to his compromised vision with the light positioned behind their heads. All he could see was the outline of human figures, faceless silhouettes.

"It looks like a man. But it's a monster," a woman said, a sob punctuating her sentence.

Vlad assumed the female was the one who had lured him into the barn. He struggled to move, grunting with the effort. He was dying, losing his immortality, soul by soul. The souls were oozing from him like his blood, escaping from the prison of his body to be released at last to find eternal rest. He needed to pull himself off these damnable stakes so he could heal. His heart pumped harder when he strained to move. The blood spilled from his wounds more profusely with each useless motion, each pitiful attempt to raise himself from the stakes that held him captive.

"He's not dead yet," another man announced, his voice strong and loud. He seemed completely unfazed by the supernatural creature they had caught in their trap.

In the moonlight that had taken on a soft silvery haze as if all of this were a nightmare from which he could not awaken, Vlad saw the outline of a crossbow in the man's hand. He watched in dumbfounded shock as the man released the thick, square stake with a hand carved point that had been loaded into the weapon instead of an arrow. Pain exploded in his chest, sending out aftershocks of fiery pain that streaked through his whole body when the stake penetrated his heart. This could not be happening. Giving up on his struggle in an effort to cling to some modicum of life, he stilled his ravaged body. Dirt rained down upon him as he gradually fell asleep, going into a type of hibernation so his body could heal without needlessly destroying anymore of the souls still left. In time, the wooden stakes would disintegrate, becoming like the earth they were throwing into the hole on top of him. Then he would regenerate. One day he would return.

~...~

Willie gasped, shaking herself awake from the horrible nightmare. She dreamed she was being been buried alive. In the nightmare, dirt had clogged her nose and mouth preventing her from breathing. The dirt covered her eyes and filled her ears, stealing her sight and hearing. It kept coming, falling from the sky until it weighed heavily upon her body. She could not move. She could not dig her way out. The sensations had been so terribly vivid that she was panting for air in panic.

"Vlad," she whispered, twisting the sheets in her hand. Then she became aware that she had lived through a real nightmare. The fire. She shivered uncontrollably despite the sweat that covered her body. Where was she now?

Keeping her eyes closed, Willie inhaled deeply then lay still to listen. She recognized this place. Scents of pine and morning glories hung heavily in the thin mountain air. The sound of dripping water from a natural spring echoed off of the stone walls. Even the soft bed under her and the lavender scented sheets around her were familiar. Her raw nerves were soothed by this place. She was home in a way, being at the gypsy castle in the mountains. How did she get here? Wading through her memories of what had happened, despite being fractured and frightening, she was determined to recall how she could have arrived here. She remembered a gigantic, beautiful white wolf. Then a voice, a man's voice, telling her that she was safe, that he was a friend.

"Gannon?" she asked herself out loud. Could it really be him? Her answer came quickly from the darkness surrounding her.

"I'm here," he said, sitting down on the bed beside her. He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "You're awake."

"How long have I been here?" she inquired, opening her eyes to look at him.

"Several weeks. You were hibernating I suppose so your body could repair itself. You were pretty badly burned. But you're all healed now," he said, looking right into her eyes.

Willie wondered how he could see through the bleakness surrounding them. She could see him clearly, and he had changed. He was older, but not as old as he should have looked considering how much time had passed. His face and body had broadened, becoming brawny instead bearing the long smooth muscles he had in his youth. His hair had lightened to a white color and was longer, shaggier, giving him a slightly wild appearance. The only lines on his face rested at the corners of his eyes and lips. She hoped many years of smiles and laughter, happiness beyond belief, had caused those wrinkles. His eyes were still a deep blue like a gorgeous summer sky but seemed to hold a luminescence as they studied her in turn.

"How did you find me?" she asked, sitting up beside him. She extended her hand to touch him, afraid he might disappear and this was just another illusion.

"I've never been far from you," he said, taking her hand in his. He pulled it to his lips, kissing the palm. "I've watched over you for years, my lady. I told you I would always be there to protect you."

"Are you - " she paused, pulling her hand from his. Her fingers moved over his chest visible at the top of his shirt that hung open. His once hairless chest bore a fine coating of white hair that was like fur. "Are you the wolf who saved me? Are you the one who whose voice I've heard at night?"

For a moment he looked embarrassed, his eyelashes lowering against his tanned cheek. Apparently he could still walk in the sun. She envied him for that. She watched the blood flow under his skin, warm and red, rushing faster through his veins as his heart beat faster.

"Yes. That was me," he answered sheepishly, sliding his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to him. "The gypsies possess all kinds of wonderful and terrifying magic."

"Indeed," she murmured, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

"I'm not immortal like you. I have an increased life span, but I won't live forever," he explained to her, his eyes scanning her face when she pulled back to look at him. "You haven't changed at all. You still look like the girl I met a lifetime ago. But then, you never will change. You'll always be young and beautiful."

Willie instantly became self-conscious, lowering her eyes from his as he stared at her. She took his hand in hers, tracing the prominent veins on the back of it. Her stomach tumbled and spasmed with hunger. "Why? Why did you do it?"

"Become a werewolf?" he asked, pushing the auburn colored hair behind her ear that had fallen over her face to block his view. She no longer had freckles on her skin. They had disappeared to leave behind an expanse of flawless white skin that was like fine porcelain. "I wanted to stay around for a while to watch over you. Maurus gave me a way to do that. He made me a part of the pack."

"What?" she gasped, her eyes meeting his. "Are you telling me that the gypsies, all them, were werewolves?"

"Yes, they are," he answered bluntly. Sliding his fingertips along the round curve of her jawline. She would forever be a lovely young woman retaining the softness and roundness of youth. "I'm the Alpha now. He left the pack in my care when he died."

"Where are they now?"

"Asleep."

"The girl, the night of the bonfire - "

"The last night I saw you," he interjected, cupping her cheek in his palm.

"Did you marry her? Do you have children? Tell me about your life," she requested, leaning back against her pillow. Her fingers intertwined with his as he positioned himself beside her.

"I married her. We never had children," he replied, an overwhelmingly sad tone evident in his voice. "Willie, Vlad killed her not long after we were married. She had gone to the village for supplies. We never had the chance to make a family."

Willie's chest tightened with guilt and sadness. She wanted to cry but felt it would be disrespectful to do so because she would be crying out of shame for what her husband had done.

"It's not your fault. I blame him and him only. I never retaliated because it would only break your heart. Revenge would have caused a lot of unnecessary pain. I felt guilty as well. I never loved her like I should have," he confessed, touching Willie's chin with his fingertips so she would look at him. "She married me knowing that my heart belonged to someone else. That never kept her from loving me. Unfortunately, her love wasn't strong enough to make me forget the one I held dear."

"Gannon..." she breathed, inhaling quick shallow breaths.

"Where is Vlad, Willie? Why isn't here?" he asked her.

"I-I d-don't kn-know," she stuttered, jerking her hand out of his. She scooted off the bed, moving to stand at the window covered by a tapestry that shut out the light. Immediately she began to ponder the possibility that Gannon's wife had made this. The picture depicting two dogs fighting, one white and one black, must have taken many long and arduous hours to sew.

"He's never been there for you when you needed him most. He's always been off, somewhere else, pursuing his own selfish interests when you needed him," he said, his voice rising with emotion. He went to her, seizing her arm to jerk her around to face him. His eyes glowed a brilliant silvery blue in the darkness - the wolf's eyes. "He's never been there for you...has he? Has he?!" he demanded, shaking her slightly.

"Gannon, stop it!" she screamed angrily, slapping his cheek with enough strength that he reeled backwards to fall onto the bed. "Oh, Gannon," she murmured quietly, gazing into his eyes that blazed an icy blue. They were captivating, his wolf eyes. "You've always been my hero and my friend, but Vlad is the man who holds my heart. I'm sorry."

"Well," he sighed, giving her a less than sincere smile. "I've always known that. But it still hurts to know that the man you love never really has known the true value of the gift you have given him. You gave him your heart, and then you gave him your life. He doesn't seem to understand just how precious that is."

"Please, stop," she begged, her chest aching because her heart was breaking. The truth hurt, and as much as she wanted to argue, she could not deny that he had spoken the truth.

"You'll wait for him. Just like before...won't you?" he asked, not moving from the bed. His cheek pulsed and burned from where she had struck him. He did not want to get near her at the moment because he was so angry. Not because she had hit him, but because after all this time, after almost getting killed since her loving husband was not there to protect her, she was still a fool. She was still a fool for Vlad and always would be. He wanted to hate her for it, wished it would obliterate his love for her, but it didn't. Damn it all anyway.

"He'll come back to me no matter how long it takes. And when he does, I'll be right here, waiting for him," she answered, resolute in her love for Vlad no matter how ridiculous it seemed to Gannon.

"Fine. Be an idiot. Continue to be _his _idiot for an eternity. But know this," he warned her. "I'll protect you no matter what. I'll kill him if I have to in order to keep that promise."


	15. Chapter 15

Willie appeared just after sunset before complete darkness fell across the land. She was wearing a new crimson cloak, the hood pulled up to hide her face. One of the young women had spent months making a new one to replace hers that had holes burned into it and had been ripped beyond repair. She had reunited with her adoptive family of gypsies, and to her great surprise, a pack of werewolves. Among the faces that she had recognized, there were so many more new faces. Time had passed by faster than she thought because the children that she used to babysit and play with had grown up, gotten married, and had children of their own. Seeing those babies, cradling them in her arms and tickling them under their chins, filled her with such joy and sadness all at once. Her heart still longed for a child to love. Life had continued on for them without her, yet her life seemed to be stuck, frozen in time where nothing changed. Nothing, and no one, changed. Certainly not Vlad.

Willie confidently wound her way through the trees, avoiding the holes and rocks that would trip her. She was going to the spot where she sat every night, waiting. It was the same spot where Vlad had returned to her over a century and a half ago. Although she loved being with her adoptive family again, she missed the man she loved with all of her foolish heart. The family was not the only thing here that had grown and changed after such a lengthy passage of time. The natural arch that had served as an entrance to the courtyard had been allowed to become overgrown, sealing away the passageway to castle from visitors or intruders, accidental or otherwise. Even the road had become just another part of the forest where the vines twined around the trees a bit more densely, holding them in an intimate embrace. Somehow, despite the new growth of vegetation and the slight changes in the landscape, she recognized the area. It was if she could feel the ghosts of the past, the vibrations of the overpowering emotions she had experienced that night still in the air, resonating with her heart.

A large boulder had been placed there recently by Gannon with the help of a few of the other strong men. She smiled thinking of him. Despite not wanting Vlad to return, he had put the rock there as a place for her to sit while performing her sad vigil when she tired of standing or pacing. He called her nightly ritual foolhardy, pointless, self-destructive, and many other negative terms she did not want to hear. Although he had voiced his objections to her hurtful act of self-torture, he never tried to stop her. Some nights, he even waited with her. Most often he stayed in human form, but sometimes he would come to her in his wolf form. Willie felt more comfortable with him in his wolf form some nights. When the pain became too much and she needed to cry, she would stroke his thick, soft fur which soothed her and eased the sadness. Sometimes she would talk to him freely, telling him the deepest pain in her heart while she cried her tears into his furry neck. She feared if she opened up so completely to him while he was a man, she would forget herself, allowing the emotions to carry her until she found solace in his arms, in his kiss, and much more intimate ways.

When Willie appeared at the boulder, she found Gannon sitting there gazing up at the sky. She smiled when he pretended not to notice her. With his keen sense of hearing and smell, she was confident that he had been aware of her coming for quite a while. Besides, he knew her well enough that he had no doubt she would be here just like every night. She had waited through rain storms and blizzards. Such a trivial thing as the weather would not stop her from coming here just in case that was night Vlad returned for her. Without uttering a word, she sat down beside Gannon.

"You're late," he told her, pointing up into the sky. "The first star has already appeared. Usually you come out to light up the night with your beauty before it does."

"Oh," she scoffed, slapping him lightly on the arm. "The silly things you say."

"Willie, I know you'll never stop loving Vlad. But do you ever think..." Gannon paused, becoming visibly anxious. "Do you think you could ever love me? Even a little?"

"Gannon," she murmured, taking his hand in hers. Using her forefinger, she traced the prominent vein on the back of his hand. She could feel it pulsing under her fingertip, see the red of his blood flowing under his skin. Saliva flooded her mouth as the craving seized her, tying her stomach into painful knots of hunger. She gulped to keep from choking on her own copious amounts of drool as well as to push back the appetite that she had not satisfied in quite a while. "I do care about you. I always have. You've been a wonderful friend." She ceased speaking when she felt his body tense. Her eyes glowed brightly to hear his heart beating faster, pushing his blood through his veins at such a high rate she could hear a sound like a rushing stream. "I think it would be unfair of me and cruel to you to pretend to love you."

"Would it really be that difficult to pretend? Do you find the thought of loving me that deplorable?" he asked, pushing back her hood so he could see her face. She had not fed in so long that her hair had started to gray. A thick white streak of hair framed each side of her face that had developed crow's feet at the corners of her eyes and deep wrinkles at the edges of her lips. Starving had given her the appearance of growing older since her body could not repair its cells at a fast enough rate to keep her looking young. She would not die. Just dry up and wither, becoming weak until she fell into a deep sleep that would require blood to awaken her.

"No, it's not that at all," she said, extending her hand to touch his sun kissed cheek. His eyes lit up in the darkness, a lovely bluish white like the light of the moon that had just risen to her place in the sky. "Gannon, describe the sunrise to me. It's been so long that I've forgotten what it looks like."

"Well, let's see. The sunrise," he mumbled, searching for the words as he pulled her into his arms.

Willie inhaled deeply when his scent enveloped her at the same moment his arms did. Masculine human pheromones combined with a slightly canine aroma that was layered with scents of pine, green leaves, and damp earth. He smelled good to her. Almost too good. She whimpered as her jaw began to ache, her teeth threatening to extend from the bone in anticipation of a feeding. NO! Not him. Not ever him. She closed her eyes, settling her cheek against his chest as if she were a child preparing for a bedtime story. The beat of his heart became a comforting staccato sound like the chirping of the crickets around them.

"The first rays of light, weak and a pale yellow, start to disperse the dreary gray sky that is the last remnant of night. Ever so slowly, the color becomes brighter, the shafts of light widening. And then, when you're surrounded by the beautiful glow of light so bright it changes from gold to white, the sun appears. The top of the yellow orb peeks above the horizon until it rises to its proper place in the sky. It's light is so warm, so comforting. It's like receiving an embrace from God himself," he finished, hugging her to him with one arm.

Willie sniffled, not realizing that tears had been rolling down her face and were dripping from her chin. He had described it so wonderfully that she could see it and feel it once again. Picking up the edge of her cloak, she primly dabbed at her eyes, hoping that he would not notice she was crying. Suddenly she found herself staring into two luminous blue eyes. They were mesmerizing, capturing her attention without relinquishing it. Forcing herself to look away, her eyes dropped to his mouth. That was a much worse choice of where to focus her attention. His lips, dark pink like the running roses that grew on the wall under her window, were slightly parted and damp from where he had just licked them. She shifted apprehensively, tring to break free of his iron hard grip on her arms. He had made a kill before coming here. The scent of fresh blood wafted from his mouth and tickled her nose. A growl that morphed into a groan of agony seeped from her lips. "Gannon, please..."

"Please, what?" he challenged, his eyes searching hers when she met his fierce gaze. "What do you want me to do?"

"Please..." She could not bring herself to say the rest. She did not want him to let her go. His mouth looked so inviting, the smell of blood so tempting.

Gannon closed his eyes, pulling her forward. He kissed her lips. The kiss was brief, innocent - apologetic. It reminded her of the kiss she had given that young man in the tower before she had killed him. Willie's belly tightened with fear. Did this mean he meant to kill her? It would put both of them out of their misery. Her eyes followed his every move as he pushed open his shirt, revealing an expanse of tanned flesh covered by sparse white hair. He pressed his hand over his heart, his nails extending into claws with razor sharp hooked points at the tips.

"No," she gasped her eyes widening with horror. In awestruck disbelief, she watched as he sank the nails into his skin, dragging his hand across his chest. Four red scratches, wide and raw, appeared before the skin separated to allow blood to seep out. The blood swiftly gathered until it created vermillion trails down his chest.

"Drink," he ordered her, pulling her forward with his palm cupped around the back of her head.

"No, Gannon, I can't...I can't!" she cried out, her lips coming closer and closer. She wanted it. His blood made her body ache with yearning. Her stomach growled and ached with the craving, her intense hunger. Her teeth had extended despite her best effort to hold them in.

"You must feed. I can't allow you to waste away. Take my blood, Willie. If you won't love me, then at least take everything I can offer you," he said, kissing her forehead.

"I don't want to kill you. I-I-I..." she stammered helplessly, a pitiful sob wrenching itself free from her throat. "I don't want to kill you."

"You won't kill me," he assured her, looking down into her eyes with a soft expression. He did not pity her. He loved her and was willing to sacrifice anything for her, even himself.

"Gannon, I - " She stopped talking when the desire for blood overwhelmed her. Her tongue darted between her lips to taste his blood. She moaned. It was sweet and salty, thick and viscous, yet it spread across her tongue like the finest wine. "You can't let me kill you."

"Why?" He pushed the thick streak of gray hair behind her ear, holding her iridescent green eyes with his.

"Because I can't live without you," she admitted at last.

"I know." He closed his eyes, pulling her lips against his bleeding flesh.

Willie opened her mouth wide, attempting to cover all four gashes with her mouth. She licked and sucked, moaning in appreciation. Gulping down his precious blood with audible swallows, her hands moved to his waist to hold him still. Her teeth punctured his skin, piercing the muscle underneath, to increase the flow of blood into her mouth. She did not hear him cry out in pain when her teeth sank even deeper because her own heart, filled with excitement and elation, was beating too loudly in her ears. Her body grew warm, filled with an electrical energy that hummed along every nerve ending, sending little shocks through her whole system as it began to truly come back alive.

"Willie," Gannon called, his voice low and breathy, barely above a whisper. Mustering his waning strength, he raised his hands to thrust them into the myriad of curls of her head. A groan, half pleasure and half pain, rolled from deep in his chest to glide past his lips. He tugged on her hair, just hard enough to get her attention. "Willie, stop...you must..."

The weakness in his voice cut through her gluttonous stupor with the precision of a sword, slicing clear through the bestial haze to reach her rational human mind. She lifted her mouth, the blood dripping from her lips to splash back down onto his chest in big fat vermilion droplets.

"Stop," he breathed, his lips stretching into a weak smile when her eyes met his.

"Oh, no," she whispered, raising her shaking hand to wipe his blood from her mouth. "Oh, no, no, no."

Willie stroked his pale cheek with her fingertips while he struggled to breath. Her fingers trembled as she checked the wound on his chest. The gashes he had made were closing. The puncture wounds made by her teeth sizzled while sending up small tendrils of white vapor as if his skin were on fire, burning the holes closed. She jumped when he grunted, gritting his teeth through the pain. His incisors, appropriately also called the canine teeth, had thickened and lengthened to look like a regular wolf's teeth. Her hand cuppled his jaw that was clenched tightly in an attempt to block the pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she apologized, not knowing what else to do.

Willie had not wanted to take his blood. There were reasons beyond causing him pain that she had not wanted to imbibe his life force. She would become one with him, having his thoughts, his feelings, and his memories. She feared that she would not be able to bear it. Suddenly, she felt it. The gnawing torment of heartache that she was all too familiar with hit her in the gut like a sucker punch. She had suffered this gut wrenching pain every time she had seen Vlad with Ilona. Each time he would kiss her was a like a knife in her belly. Every time he would whisper flattering words in his wife's ear and Ilona would giggle, the pain would seize her heart, squeezing it as if to choke the life out of her. The agonizing pain of loving someone, of feeling like they did not know you were alive. The torture of being so close to them that you could touch them, but they would never feel the same thing you were feeling. Loneliness, sadness, anger, jealousy - they all squirmed through her insides like horrible little parasites, instilling their poison in her mind. She clutched her belly, her whole body shaking as she hunched over the barely conscious Gannon.

"Let it out, Willie. Let go of the pain," he encouraged her, winding her hair around his hand.

"How? How do I do it?" she asked, resisting the urge to vomit because the emotions welling inside of her were so powerful and toxic. She already knew how Gannon felt because she had experienced it for herself. Now, she was coping with both of their overpowering emotions.

"That's why I howl...to let it out," Gannon murmured, grasping her hair. He pulled her mouth down to his to kiss her: a passionate, magnificent, stunning kiss. Pulling her hair, hard, he continued to pull until her head fell back and her face turned upward toward the moon. "Do it, Willie. Howl!"

Willie inhaled deeply before opening her mouth to release her anguish to the moon in a mournful yowl. She howled until her breath was gone and her lungs cried out for air. In the distance, she could hear the other members of the pack answering her. There were high pitched yips mingled with lower pitched, haunting wails and raspy barks. Then there were the deep toned, lingering bays that were haunting yet beautiful as the werewolves poured out their melancholy to the gorgeous silvery blue moon. The moon was the same color as Gannon's werewolf eyes. She closed her eyes and ejected another lamenting ululation into the night. Staying silent, she listened as the heartrendingly magnificent music of the pack was brought to her ears by the temperate breeze.

"It's amazing," she whispered, allowing her tears to flow freely.

"It's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard," Gannon said, placing his palm against her jaw to cup it tenderly. The gray streaks had disappeared from her brownish red hair and her skin had regained its youthful suppleness. She was so pale she virtually glowed in the light of the full moon. "You're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Even as a vampire."

"Gannon, thank you," she told him, pulling his hand around to press her lips to kiss his palm. She held his hand between the two of hers, staring down at him as he lay across the boulder, resting to regain the strength she had sapped away from him.

"I would do anything, absolutely anything, for you."

"I have one request then."

"What is that request, My Lady? Your wish is my command." His eyes held hers, a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

"Don't die." The expression in her eyes was resolute.

"But I already told you - "

"I know." Her eyes lowered from his, staring at his hand that was still sandwiched between hers. "There is a way...there is a way that you could stay with me forever."

"How is that?" He halfway believed she was joking. When she turned her luminous green eyes back on him, he knew then that she was completely sincere.

"Give me something Vlad never could," she said, reaching out with one hand to caress his cheek while she pulled his other hand up to her chest to press the back of it against her heart. "Give me a child."

"What? But, Willie, I - "

Willie lowered her mouth to his, kissing him slowly, enticingly. The tip of her tongue teased his lips, requesting entrance to his mouth then retreating when his lips parted. She raised her lips from his, giving him an invitation to answer. "Well?"

"No," he responded, his voice clotted with surging emotions and desire.

"What did you say?" she questioned him in disbelief. Her eyes darkened as if what light existed within her had been extinguished. Her cat like green eyes looked like nothing more than empty, black holes in her head.

"No. I won't. Not like this. You're hurting right now. You'd be doing this more to exact revenge on him than to fulfill your yearning for a child. And certainly not because you love me," he murmured, sitting up with a grunt from the effort. His energy stores were still depleted, and he was quite shaky. "I love you, Willie but I won't let you do this to me...or to yourself."

"I understand. I apologize for my forwardness," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. "We should go back to the castle. You need to rest."

"No. We can stay right here. Listen," he whispered, drawing her attention to the ongoing cacophony of howling. "The family is still singing. They would be sorely disappointed to know that you are not here listening to their song."

"You're right."

Willie smiled when Gannon's hand clasped hers, holding it securely inside his big, warm palm. She had always felt safe and protected with him. Unlike some other men she knew, he had always cared about protecting her virtue and honor as well. Then why did she find it impossible to love him? Why was she still hanging on to a man who had been like a wave in the ocean all of her life? Vlad had come upon her like a tidal wave, overwhelming her and taking her under. Many times she thought she would drown in the sea of unrequited love and guilt for wanting a married man. All her life he had pestered her, he had mocked her - and he refused to leave her alone even now. Like a wave on the ocean, fickle and unpredictable, he would come and go wherever and whenever he pleased. She could never hold the ocean in a cup so why was she still here waiting, holding on?

"I feel like howling. I want to let go," she announced out loud. Then she tilted back her head, and howled.


	16. Chapter 16

_Beginning of the 19th century, early 1800s_

Time changes everything; landscape, culture, people, minds...hearts. However, not much had changed in the little village lying in the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains. The legend of the vampire who hunted and killed the inhabitants had been passed down from generation to generation. There was also the story of how a few brave souls who had finally had enough of living in fear of the murderous creature. The tale of how they had lured, captured, and killed the supernatural menace had been told time and time again in the nearly two centuries since his death. The barn where the events occurred had deteriorated long ago, but a ghastly natural, or maybe supernatural, landmark had grown in the exact spot where the vampire's body was buried. This was no ordinary tree. It was black and bare, appearing dead, but it wasn't. The thin trunk and barren limbs grew longer each year but never sprouted a single leaf, berry, or nut. The tree's eerie, crooked limbs resembled arms and smaller offshoots from there looked like hands complete with fingers. The 'arms' extended toward to the sky as if grasping at the sun, and life itself, to capture it. Grass did not sprout from the ground within a diameter of several feet around the base of the tree.

On a late autumn day, three young women, sisters in fact, came to the tree. They stared at its empty black branches, shivering in fear as much as from the cold wind that blew around them. They were not just ordinary, curious girls. The trio were descendants of the woman who had seduced the vampire, leading him into the trap that had been laid for him under the floorboards of the barn. The story had been passed down through their family for eons because for them it was a source of personal pride. Their many times great grandmother had been instrumental in killing the vampire. It was because of her and those few souls who dared to face the vampire that they were alive. Today, October 31st, they were going to celebrate Samhain by raising the vampire. They believed on this day the veil was removed from between the corporeal world and the spirit world which made it ideal for bringing him back to life.

"What do we do?" the youngest sister with lengthy ringlets of golden hair asked. Her blue eyes blinked furiously as the wind gusted, stirring up the leaves around them.

"Vampire's need blood. So..." The oldest sister with straight shoulder length honey brown hair pulled their mother's sharpest kitchen knife from under her coat.

"Why are we doing this?" the middle child, the voice of reason, questioned her sister. She furiously shoved a lock of her light brown hair behind her ear.

"I want to see what he is like. I want to know more about him," she said, staring at the knife in her hand.

"That's just stupid. He was a murderer who killed a lot of people in this village long ago. Who cares about anything else?" she snapped, attempting to take the knife from her sister. When her sister pulled the knife out of her reach with a self-satisfied smirk of triumphant on her face, she yelled at her sibling,"You're crazy! Completely insane!"

"I'm scared. I want to go home," the youngest whined, pulling on her oldest sister's coat.

"No! Don't!" the reasonable one screamed when her sister dropped to her knees on the black dirt that appeared as if it had been scorched time and time again.

The eldest, determined to revive the vampire to satisfy her own childish curiosity, held the knife above her open hand. Hesitating briefly, she sucked in a deep breath to gather her courage. Closing her eyes, she pulled the blade across her palm. The blade was so sharp that there was no pain from the initial cut. As blood filled her palm from the gash, a stinging sensation blazed across the diagonal line. She turned her hand allowing the blood to drip onto the bare black earth at the base of the tree.

The tiny rivulets of blood soaked through the layers of dirt, winding their way to the vampire hidden deep below. The nourishing red fluid dripped onto the gray, putrefied skin stretched tautly over the bones, penetrating the dead flesh. Blood touched the dried, cracked lips and slid over the ossified black mass that was once a tongue. The tongue moved, licking the blood from the desiccated lips. Muscles started to form and connect to bones with silvery white slivers of tendons. The heart quivered and pulsed as platelets began to form inside of it. Veins and arteries glided across the muscles, writhing like snakes as they wound their way under the still transparent skin in order the carry blood through the newly forming body. Nutrient rich drops of life writhed their way across the lungs, turning the dead gray cells back into healthy pink ones. He needed air. Dirt filled his ears, nose, and mouth but that was not all that was preventing him from breathing. The sheer weight of the earth covering his chest was crushing his recreated lungs. His extremely lengthy nails that were like hooks attached to his fingers, clawed at the damp soil. He was digging his way out of his earthly grave.

The girls screamed in terror when the hand broke through the ground in front of them. They backed away in such a rush that they fell on their behinds in unison, huddling together while their bodies froze with fear to the ground where they were sitting. The blackened earth split and opened up in front of them as if it were giving birth. A naked man, tall and emaciated from starvation, rose up from the loose dirt. The sister had succeeded in her irresponsible and half-witted endeavor. Her blood had resuscitated the vampire. The streaks of mud and caked on dirt did little to hide his nude body but the girls were too scared to notice his present state of undress. His hair hung down to his waist in long, mud caked tendrils. His eyes glowed red, two burning crimson dots against a background of dark earth that covered him from head to toe. A predatory grin split his face revealing a mouth full of pointy, razor sharp teeth.

"Are...are you the v-vampire?" asked the young lady about eighteen years of age.

"Yes," he answered, glimpsing at his restored limbs. "My name is..." He paused. What was his name? He was no longer Vlad Dracul; that name did not belong to him anymore. He was supposed to have lived happily for an eternity with his Countess, Willie. For a moment, sadness threatened to overwhelm him, then he pushed it aside as easily as if it were an annoying fly buzzing around the recesses of his fuzzy memory. "My name is Count Dracula."

"Count Dracula," the girl repeated as if dazed, numb with shock.

"Dear, sweet ladies, you are all so very kind," he said in his most charming manner despite being a naked, filthy vampire. He dropped down to his knees in front of them, kowtowing to show his gratitude. There was a first time for everything, and this was something he had definitely never done before. However, if anyone deserved his sincere gratitude, these three did for restoring him and bringing him plenty of blood. He raised up, sitting back on his feet to study each girl in turn. They were young and pretty, siblings he would guess. Fresh and tender, never sampled by a man. And of course, full of the savory, untainted blood flowing through their plump nubile bodies. His mouth salivated at the thought. "You three have restored my life. And you were even thoughtful enough to bring a feast with you."

"But we didn't bring you anything to eat," the outspoken middle sister said.

"Yes, we did," the oldest corrected her, hugging her sisters to her body. "Us."

"No, please," the little blond moaned, burying her face into the shoulder of her protective sister's coat.

The vampire chuckled maliciously, drool dripping from his disturbingly lengthy fangs onto the ground. Before the girls could scream, he lunged at them, pinning the oldest under his body. He seized the other two with his hands, sinking his claws into their necks to paralyze them but not kill them. He planned to savor the first meal he had eaten in two hundred years.

~...~

* * *

_Late 1800s, Carpathian Mountains_

Count Dracula howled in pain and fury. These men had come to kill him. These humans insulted him by invading his sanctuary, his castle. Then they had the gall to further desecrate his haven by daring to attempt to murder him. Once again, his vanity and insatiable appetite for blood and women had caused him to fall into a trap. Years ago he had come to this castle, searching for his wife, the woman he could not forget. But she was gone, most likely dead since he had not been there to take care of her. He could still smell her scent in these halls along with something vile, something definitively canine yet human at the same time. Although she was gone, he had stayed making this castle his new home. He had enticed women into to his mountain hideaway where he killed them or turned them into slaves to fulfill all of his selfish desires. Not surprisingly, he continued to do so until he enchanted the wrong woman. The woman had a lover who had come to seek her out. Upon finding her in the castle, a pale, pathetic version of her former self, he was infuriated that she had become a mindless, apathetic slave bent on serving her vampiric master. The disenchanted, forgotten lover swore revenge and brought in reinforcements to help him get it. One of those men, Dr. Abraham Van Helsing, would prove to be the egotistical Count's undoing.

Dr. Abraham Van Helsing, a man of many interests and a title for each one of those scholarly pursuits. He was a doctor, for the body and brain, an MD and PhD. Also an herbalist, taking a more natural approach to healing. He fancied himself a spiritualist who sought to understand mental illness based in otherworldly explanations such as demon possession and oppression by evil spirits. His passion for the occult, for supernatural powers and entities that defied logic and scientific explanation, led him here. He believed he found something straight from the world beyond that had become a reality in the realm of humans - a vampire. The people of the village had supplied him with endless, sometimes pointless and ridiculous, lore about the mythical vampire. Miraculously, he had been able to glean enough information that when mixed with a little bit of experimentation, trail and error, and insanely good luck, he had hit upon the right formula that enabled him to capture the remarkable and powerful creature. At last he had rendered the seemingly invincible creature weak and vulnerable. It had been an all out war to capture the vampire. Many people died, gallons of blood were shed, and dozens of lives were forever changed and not for the better. To him it had been a worthwhile sacrifice in the name of furthering his study of the metaphysical.

The vampire was impaled, wriggling like a fish a hook as he lay on the wooden stakes covered in a special silver amalgam. The silver on the spears had been mixed with mercury which stuck to his blood cells like glue, bonding the silver to each and every platelet. Although Count Dracula had developed a tolerance for silver, the mixture affected him like a poisonous substance would a human. It was destroying his blood and leeching into his whole system. Since his body was unable to heal the cells by removing the toxin, it was stripping away his immortality gradually. His current symptoms mimicked being poisoned: nausea, stomach cramps, muscle weakness, blurry vision, headache. He vomited, ejecting thick globs of coagulated blood that choked him. A crawling sensation like a thousand worms wiggling under skin made him cry out in torment. If only he could extricate himself from the stakes, to allow his body the chance to detoxify. If he could prevent more of the silver/mercury mixture from being absorbed into his system, the damaged cells could die and be replaced by new ones. However, he could not move because they had made a bed of silver and mercury laced wooden stakes for him to fall onto. He could not stop the oncoming sleep. _Not again...not again._

"Is that _thing_ a man?" Dr. John Seward asked, disgust evident in his voice and on his face. Seward was the man who had called upon Van Helsing to aid him in his useless pursuit of saving his beloved Lucy Westenra.

"He was a man once," Van Helsing proclaimed as if he were already an expert on such things. "And he is now definitely a monster. He is the King of Monsters. Nosferatu."

"Dr. Van Helsing, what should we do with him?" another man in the hunting party inquired.

"Get him off those stakes before he dies," the doctor commanded them.

"But isn't that what we want, sir?" Seward asked, horrified at the prospect of allowing the vampire to remain alive when the woman he loved was dead.

"It is not what _I _want, John!" Dr. Van Helsing yelled at his former student.

"What do _you _want, Doctor?" he demanded, enraged by his mentor's callousness.

"I want all of you to get him out of that hole and off of those silver tainted spikes!" Van Helsing bellowed angrily. "He's important to my research. He's a vampire. I have experiments to do and I need him alive." Dr. Van Helsing paused, then laughed. A horrible, maniacal laugh. "Alive? That is amusing. This creature has not been truly alive in a very long time. Get him out of there."

"What is going on here? What are you going to do to me?" Count Dracula questioned the man who he could no longer see because he had temporarily gone blind.

"You, No Life King, are very important to me at the moment. I've been researching your kind for quite some time now. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, ghouls, zombies...all manner of supernatural creatures who exist in peoples worst nightmares," he explained.

Count Dracula bellowed like the tragically trapped beast he had become as the men pulled him from the wooden spikes at the bottom of the pit. They were using ropes that had been secured around his arms and legs, and he wondered if they were trying to draw and quarter him instead. His eyes opened and closed slowly as unconsciousness came closer. For a moment, he was able to get his impaired vision to clear so he could see the man responsible for snaring him.

Dr. Van Helsing was a broad man, barrel chested and square shouldered, standing just under six feet. The man's mouth was hard and appeared as if he had never smiled. His blond eyebrows were bushy and overgrown as if they had a mind of their own and were set over crystal blue eyes that were like shards of ice. His nose was thin and long, almost like a beak. His blond hair was slicked against his completely round head giving him the appearance of being bald.

Count Dracula hated blond men. Every blond man he had ever known had wreaked serious havoc in his life. First there was that General, Gannon Lupei. Then the holier than thou priest, Father Anderson. And now, this bastard who had captured him for the second time using a trap he had already fallen into once before. Instead of blaming himself for being arrogant and stupid, he blamed them for being burrs in his backside.

Count Dracula was too weak to flinch when the man suddenly moved closer, coming almost nose to nose with him. He closed his eyes as Van Helsing studied him with those piercing eyes that cut right through him. His body was shutting down, betraying him, as it attempted to preserve what was left of his waning immortality. He would once again fall into a hibernation like sleep while his body repaired itself. Twice he had allowed himself to fall into the same trap. Twice his pride had gone before his fall, ever so literally. Perhaps he should have listened to that Priest from so long ago and put away his pride. But it was a part of his inherent nature that he could not stifle. A hand touched his chest, pressing to his heart that was beating slower and slower. He snarled like a mad dog, but the man remained unfazed, unimpressed with the wounded and enraged vampire.

"Fascinating," Dr. Van Helsing muttered to himself before standing up straight. "Okay. Wrap him up in those chains. Those cuffs for his wrists and ankles are made of pure silver to keep him in an enfeebled state. I don't think he will pose much of a problem at the moment," he scoffed derisively. "For God's sake don't forget to put that mask on him either. It will keep him from biting us. One bite and you're dead. Or worse...you could become like him."

Count Dracula remained quiet, unable to struggle against the men who were restraining him as ordered by the Doctor. Upon seeing the mask, a full helmet type device that would encompass his head, he started to buck and squirm in a futile attempt to avoid having it put on him. He found himself too debilitated to even cry out when they fitted the back half of the mask to his skull then placed to front portion over his face. There were two slits over his eyes that offered him a narrow and straightforward view only. The two small holes below the sculpted nose of the device barely allowed him to draw in air. There was no opening for his mouth at all. The metal had been left intact in one smooth piece where an aperture should have been. But Van Helsing didn't want him to bite. He was a vampire after all. His teeth were his deadliest weapon to them.

"Hurry!" Van Helsing hollered. "The sun is coming up. We must get him to my ship. I've already told you, he's too valuable to die."

"Where are you taking him, sir?"

"To London, England."

~...~

* * *

_Early 20th century, near the end of the Victorian Era in England._

Van Helsing had taken everything from the vampire. His home, his freedom, his memories, and even his name. To the vampire he had captured he was nothing more then a pompous sadist who dabbled in everything and knew nothing. Count Dracula had become Alucard. Van Helsing thought of himself as being rather clever, forming the name by spelling Dracula backwards. The vampire himself had been turned inside out and upside down, tortured and brainwashed, to become a slave for the Van Helsing family. They had changed their name as well, becoming Hellsing. They had also created an organization dedicated to ridding their world of supernatural foes using their 'domesticated' vampire as a tool, a living weapon. They sought out and destroyed nefarious otherworldly creatures who preyed upon humanity for food or sport - or for creating more of their own kind.

"Wake up," the boy commanded him. The child was the second born son of Abraham Hellsing, the son of the man who had trapped him like a rat. The youngest offspring was a rather irritating brat who treated the vampire like a brainless creature. Richard Hellsing, ten years old and terminally stupid, did not seem to understand that the vampire could crush him like a nasty little cockroach - and he wanted to do so at the moment. However, a forced loyalty, a contrived obedience to the boy's father, kept him from killing the child.

Alucard was awake. He remained still, feigning sleep, ignoring the child who fidgeted and buzzed around him like an annoying fly. Chained to wall of the dank dungeon hidden under the Hellsing Mansion, he was kept bound in this prison until his services were required. Richard yelled at him again. The boy was giving him a headache. He had not eaten in an extremely long time. He growled in response when Richard squawked his name again, lunging at the boy while straining against his thick chains that clanked loudly. He was wearing the mask so he could not bite, but it amused him greatly that the little upstart jumped back with horror widened eyes anyway and shrieked like a startled girl. A chuckle rolled around in his throat unable to exit his mouth because his lips were so dry they would crack if he dared to open them.

"Father!" the brat hollered. "Father!"

"Would you shut up, you git!" Arthur chastised his younger brother angrily as he walked into the dungeon. "Get out of here!"

The brother's eyes, pale and mean like their father's, fixed themselves to the silver key in his brother's hand. "Why do you get to unlock him? Father never lets me do it!"

"I'm thirteen. I'm older and smarter. It's not my fault your stupid and annoying. Besides, Alucard would kill you. Now, get out before I set him loose and order him to eat you," he threatened, giving his brother a sinister sneer. He meant to do it if Richard did not leave immediately.

"Father! Arthur's being mean again!" he whined, running out of the dank prison cell.

The muscles in Alucard's lean body were weak but they coiled in readiness at the sound of the chain's rattling when the boy moved the unlock the shackles at his ankles. Once freed, he could easily overpower the youngster and bolt past him to freedom. He could kill him if he wished, he would serve as a passable appetizer to impart enough strength to enable Alucard to go upstairs and kill the rest of the family who would be the full meal. The years of being kept in a state of forced starvation in order to make him submissive had changed his body. His once large, hulking frame full of hard muscle had shrunk to a skinny, almost skeletal appearance. But he was still strong, retaining his super human strength that only increased when he received nourishment. His hair had been cut short as well, the ends curling just below the nape of his neck.

"I brought you blood," Arthur told him as he was taking off the shackles around Alucard's wrists. He dumped the heavy restraints on the stone floor, allowing them to make an awful clamorous sound.

Alucard winced at the thought of the repugnant stale blood that awaited him. It would be lukewarm and gelatinous because it had been taken from a donor several hours ago instead of coming directly to his mouth from a wriggling, living victim. How disappointing. He closed his eyes when he felt the boy push his head gently to the side to reach the lock of the mask. Freedom, or rather a pathetic semblance thereof, would soon be his. When the mask was taken off, he kept his eyes closed, relishing the sensation of the cool, damp air against his skin. He inhaled deeply without moving a muscle. Although the air of the dungeon was slightly musty and filled with the stench of mildew, he inhaled heartily. It was like finally being able to take a deep breath after several years of enduring shallow, unsatisfying breaths.

"Are you all right?" the young man inquired, genuine concern in his voice.

Alucard would not kill him. Arthur Hellsing was the only member of the family that treated him with some modicum of kindness as if he were human again instead of a monstrous vampire. He had become a different kind of monster, one who hunted his own kind. He had become a savage monstrosity of their making and they treated like a family pet. How very human of them. "I'm fine, Master Arthur."

"I'm sorry it's been so long since we've allowed you to have food. There's a whole bottle of blood for you on the table. There's clean clothes as well." He pointed to the clothing hanging over the back of the chair positioned at the small wooden in the room. "I also brought you water to bathe with. Father will be down soon to retrieve you."

A small bucket of cold water with a washcloth and a bar of soap sat on the floor beside the table. There was a neatly pressed pair of black pants and a starched white shirt hanging over one chair. A crimson colored coat with a short cape attached to the shoulders hung over the second chair, and a pair pair of knee high black leather boots with silver buckles up to the top sat on the floor beside it. He reached out to touch the cloak, stroking the soft woolen fabric. Looking at the coat made him sad, but he had no idea why. Perhaps it reminded him of something, or maybe someone, from his distant and forgotten past. An image, blurred and skewed as if he were viewing it through a dense fog, started to form in his mind. There was a woman running toward him wearing a blood red cloak. The hood was pulled up, hiding the face of the wearer. Wild curls the color of the dusky red sky at sunset, poked out from under the edges of the hood. She giggled, a melodious sound that made every nerve in his body stand on end. Hands, white as milk and delicate with slim fingers, raised to push back the hood. Before he could see her face, the mental picture evaporated, dissolving into the fog of his damaged memory.

"Dammit," he muttered, closing his eyes. He attempted to reform the memory so he could see her face, but he could not. It was gone for good.

"Alucard?"

"Hmmm?" He opened one eye to look at the boy. Arthur Hellsing was peering at him with curiosity and worry in his crystal blue eyes. "What is it, boy?"

"You must get ready. Father will be coming. There's a mission," he informed the vampire.

Alucard unfolded his lanky frame, stretching and yawning as if he had awakened from a refreshing sleep. Nothing could be further from the truth. For years, how many exactly he had no way of knowing, he had been left alone with his thoughts, struggling to regain his memories. He wanted to remember something, anything, from his past. He was sure there was someone of profound importance to him he wanted to remember, but he had no idea who it could be. He picked up the silky vermilion ribbon that lay over the white shirt. A fleeting image of a pair of golden green eyes flashed through his brain but was lost to him before he could see the rest of the face behind those captivating eyes. Who did he want to remember?

"What are gypsies?" Arthur asked him.

"What?" Alucard snapped, his head whipping toward the boy. His whole body had instantly tensed upon hearing that word, as if he were ready to spring into action. He was not sure if he was ready to defend or destroy, possibly both. The word gypsies had evoked inside of him a powerful urge to attack. He was not sure if it was for personal reasons or a trained response instilled by Van Helsing, and it irked him greatly. He seized Arthur by his upper arms, ignoring the boy's ear splitting shriek of surprise and fear that closely mimicked his little brother's. "Where did you hear that word?"

"From me," the senior Hellsing announced, sweeping into the room. An imposing figure despite his increased years, he was still confident and arrogant as always. "Your next mission is to investigate a gypsy troupe that has just arrived in London."

Alucard glared at Abraham Hellsing as he paused to take a puff on the big fat cigar sticking out of his mouth. "Gypsies?"

"Gypsies," he confirmed, removing the cigar from his mouth before continuing to speak. "You know, wanderers and vagabonds? Notorious thieves and con artists who travel the world?"

"I know what they are," the vampire rejoined impatiently. "Why are these gypsies so important? Can't the constable just run them out of town and be done with it. You don't need me for that."

"These aren't ordinary gypsies...or that's what the rumors say." Hellsing picked a stray piece of tobacco from his tongue, flicking it into the air as if it would disappear. Once he had indulged in another lengthy drag of his cigar, he kept talking. "It seems wherever this troupe goes, death follows. People, mostly men, disappear. Sometimes bloodstained clothes are left behind, torn to shreds as if the hapless victim was attacked by dogs...or werewolves. A few bodies have been found days or weeks later, some in different cities from where they went missing. All of the victims were completely drained of blood. There is speculation that a First Generation, an original vampire, is traveling with them."

Abraham Hellsing smiled when the annoyingly inattentive vampire's eyes became completely focused on him.

"You like that, huh? The thought of meeting one of your own kind...one exactly like you. Not one of these second or third generation, mixed-breed, pitiful excuses for vampires." He stood up to leave, turning back at the door. "Get ready. You have work to do. You might have a real fight ahead of you this time, Alucard."

Alucard would be forced to confront a past he did not recall, come to terms with a present he hated, and try to determine what lay ahead in his future.


	17. Chapter 17

Willie sat under the oak tree, kept safe from the deadly rays of the sun by the dense cover of leaves. The tree was probably almost as old as her. For over four hundred years she had walked this earth. She had loved and lost, yet fate had seen fit to allow her to find love again. Raising her eyes from her sewing, she looked at each one of her beautiful daughters. Despite being an accursed creature of the night, she had been blessed with many children. At the moment, she was surrounded by her daughters and they were all working on a wedding quilt for her eldest girl child.

Adelaide, who they called Addie, was her second born, her first girl. In human years she was about twenty-five years old. In their years, she was a hundred and twenty-five. She had shiny copper colored hair that flowed down her back in waves to her waist. Her eyes were a pale blue, almost colorless. In a week's time, she would be marrying one of Maurus's descendants.

Willie's other two daughters who were helping sew their sister's quilt were her youngest. They had come as a set, surprising and wonderful twins. They were the equivalent in age to teenagers, close to sixteen. Bevin and Feya could not be more opposite in appearance and personality. Bevin looked like her father, tall and blond with azure blue eyes, but had a quiet, calm disposition with an underlying toughness like her mother. Feya was several inches shorter than her sister, had red hair so dark that it looked brown in low light, and amber colored eyes. She was more like her father being a bold, take charge kind of person. She also had a friendly and sometimes downright flirtatious nature also like her father.

Willie and Gannon had six children in all. There were three boys as well. The oldest and first born, Connor, was a carbon copy of his father when Gannon was in his late twenties. Although he was nearly a century and a half old, Connor appeared to be about twenty seven years of age. He was lanky but muscular with close cropped pale blond hair and striking blue eyes. Rafe, born two years after his sister Addie, looked just like his older brother. People mistook them for twins despite the age difference. They were the General and Vice General of the soldiers. They had created an army to protect their family, their parents and siblings and their extended gypsy family, from the perils, and their were many of them, that the world brought to them. They had a need, a determination, to protect those they loved. Both boys were so much like their father in every way.

Then there was Zev, the youngest boy at nineteen human years of age. He was different from his brothers, and they never let him forget it. Barely over five feet tall with carrot colored hair, lots of freckles on his fair skin, and deceptively innocent brown eyes, he had a mischievous personality and was always playing jokes on his siblings. He loved to laugh and have fun, never taking anything in life seriously. The jester of the family and just as entertaining, he would tell jokes or juggle apples and sometimes even knives to amuse his fellow gypsies, especially the children. The children followed him around begging him to play his flute or turn cartwheels for them. He was the Pied Piper of the gypsies, therefore he garnered the nickname Piper.

Being a combination of eternal vampire and long lived werewolf, none of them knew exactly how long their life spans would be. So far, the children exhibited mainly werewolf traits, transforming into wolves to howl with the rest of the pack. Willie was actually happy about that. As werewolves, they could eat human food and forest animals such as deer and wild boar. They did not require human blood to live. They contained a human soul unlike her. Sometimes she wondered if that was what made the birth of her children possible. Maybe that's why she and Vlad could never have children. How could two dead things without souls bring forth life? Still being half human, Gannon had retained his soul. He was still truly alive, which accounted for his lack of immortality, in contrast her being a soulless otherworldly being with no real live of her own. They only life and soul she held was what she stole from others.

Willie closed her eyes and sighed, leaning back against the ancient trunk of the tree behind her. Her life was good. Great in fact. She owed so much to Gannon. He had saved her so many times, in so many ways. He had given her a life of love, happiness, loyalty, and stability. Her life with Vlad had been exciting and dramatic, more so than she had ever wanted it to be. But she had loved him. She had willingly followed him into a hell on earth, sacrificed her humanity to be with him. In the end, he had betrayed her and abandoned her. She had been a fool for so long yet Gannon had never given up on her in all of her idiocy. She loved him dearly. However, sometimes she felt guilty that her love had never ran as deep for him as his for her.

Willie opened her eyes, looking toward the mansion. A landowner had agreed, for a rather large fee of course, to allow the gypsies to make camp on his extensive property. She had been a Countess. Had Vlad not stolen her as a child, she would have lived a boring, provincial life in a house like that. She would have married a man she didn't love in an arrangement made by her parents and lived a loveless but 'normal' life until she mercifully died of old age. Now she would be forced to lead many lives, loving and losing those close to her, the ones she held the most dear. She glanced at her children around her, and her eyes filled with tears. Someday, they would die. She would remain. Her body shivered in response to the thought. She could not bear to think about that right now.

At the moment, Willie was overwhelmed with a sense of dread that had plagued her long before they ever reached London, England. A feeling of doom and despair clung to her, invading her mind and dispelling her usual sense of tranquil contentment. She didn't want to be here. As they had neared this place, the feeling had begun to grow inside of her, weighing her down like a big stone in the pit of her stomach. She feared they had made a mistake by coming here. But this is where her daughter and son-in-law-to-be wanted to hold the wedding. Addie's husband-to-be had been born here, in this very mansion. The present owner had no idea that a werewolf over a century old had come back to his birthplace to begin yet another chapter in his long life. The next stage of his life would involve her daughter. This fact saddened her but made her happy at the same time. Her daughter would be married. They would have babies, and she and Gannon would be grandparents. Their family would grow. She should be happier. But she wasn't. She was being selfish. As long as her children were right with her, she could watch over them and protect them. She had to remind herself that her children had lives of their own to live. Letting go was difficult and painful. She would need to get used to it.

"Mom?"

Willie turned her attention to her daughter. "What is it sweetheart?"

"Are you all right?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied her mother with a clinical eye. Her father was training her to take over for him, to be the medicine woman of the troupe.

"I'm fine," she assured her, planting a smile on her lips.

"Mom!" This time the voice belonged to her oldest child, Connor.

Willie turned her gaze upward to look at her son standing above her. She smiled, sincerely this time, when he extended his hand down to her.

"Dad wants you to come inside. He doesn't want you to spend too much time out in the sun. Just in case - "

"Yes, I know," she sighed, placing her hand in his.

"He worries about you," he said, keeping hold of her hand as he led her back to the wagon. "We all do. He's not sure about the effectiveness of the cream yet so you shouldn't stay out so long."

"I know. But I can't help myself. You have no idea how I cherish such a simple thing as being able to sit in the sun after living my life in the dark for so many centuries." Through a combination of drinking her husband's blood and applying a cream he had made infused with special herbs, she could at last walk in the sun. She had cried when she had watched the sunrise for the first time in four centuries. It was just as glorious as Gannon had described to her. She will never forget that feeling of elation ad happiness that consumed her that morning. The only thing that rivaled that flood of happy emotion was the tidal wave of joy that had swallowed her with the birth of each one of her children.

All of the children could walk in the sun without having to worry. All of them exhibited traits of being primarily werewolves. Willie hoped the only thing they inherited from her was an infinite lifespan. She did not want any of them to have endure the devastating hunger that drives one to murder to survive. Although God could no longer hear her since she had given up her soul long ago, she still prayed every day that none of her children would be vampires.

"Ah, my eternal love had arrived," Gannon greeted her when she climbed into the wagon. He was crushing the herbs to mix into the sunflower oil that he had whipped into a cream. He was preparing another batch of the special mixture that protected his wife from being burned to a crisp in the sun.

Willie stood on her tiptoes when he bent down, kissing his creased cheek. She stroked his hair that had grown long and snowy white over the years. Patting his cheek, she looked into his icy blue eyes that filled her with a sense of warmth. He looked old, like a man of about sixty years of age - as old as Maurus when they had first met him. So that meant the leader of the gypsies had been well over four hundred years old when they met him. Her eyes began to sting from the tears that were gathering. She could not imagine life without her beloved husband. Unlike her, he could not live forever. Even if he drank her blood, it would not extend his life span. As a matter of fact, it acted like a poison, almost killing him. They knew this because they had tried, experimenting with attempting to prolong his life, to give him immortality. However it was not to be. Since she was a vampire, a soulless creature who needed not just the blood but also the soul of a victim to exist, his blood had no adverse effects on her. She sometimes wondered if she was killing him faster by continuing to take his blood. However, he would not allow her to stop because not only did it keep her from killing others, it enabled her to stroll with him, hand-in-hand, in the sun. They still watched the sun rise together every day, thankful for another day to live and love.

"Do I look so old to you, my everlasting beauty?" he questioned her, putting down the pestle in his hand. He held her pretty face in his hands. She still looked just like it did when she was twenty-one years old. First he kissed her lips, then both cheeks, and finally her forehead before pulling her into his arms to hold her.

"No. It's not that," she mumbled, pressing her face into the loose folds of his cotton shirt. "I just have a bad feeling about this place. I don't think we should have come here."

"After the wedding, we will move on and never come back," he promised, kissing the top of her head.

She just hoped it would not be too late by then. Her arms encircled his waist to embrace him.

"Oh, my lovely young wife - "

"I'm not much younger than you, don't forget that," she reminded him, punching him playfully in the gut. She made sure to withhold her strength because she did not want to inadvertently hurt him.

"I know that. But your face tells the world a different story," he said, pushing the stray hairs that had fallen free from her braid away from her youthful face.

"But what does your heart tell you?" She pressed her hand to his chest over his heart. Her fingers slid through the thick white hair that was silky soft searching for his heartbeat. His heart thumped against her palm. Strong and steady, a representation of his love for her - powerful, reliable, and unchanging. The only thing that would make him stop loving her was when his inevitable death came. She pressed her face against his chest, kissing the skin over his heart. She giggled as his fur tickled her nose and lips.

"My heart tells me that you're a grouchy old woman who I absolutely adore, and have for a very long time," he replied, picking her up and swinging her around.

She threw back her head, laughing out loud with pure joy. She slid her arms around his brawny neck, gazing into his laughing eyes. "Gannon, thank you for loving me. Even when I..." Her words caught in her throat, making it necessary for her to cough to dislodge them so they could be spoken. "Even when I chose him over you."

"You followed your heart, Willie. You went after the man who you really loved at that time. I can't hate you or be angry at you for that. Well, I was for a while, I can't lie about that, but in the end," he paused, kissing her lips briefly. "The wait was worth it. I've heard it said that all good things come to those who wait. I'm inclined to believe it's true."

"You romantic fool," she muttered, slapping his chest in a half-joking admonition.

"Uh huh," he agreed, kissing her chin. "And you wouldn't have me any other way, would you?"

"No. I wouldn't," she rejoined, tugging on his long braid that was draped over his shoulder to tip up his chin as he held her above him. She pressed her lips to his for a more amorous, heartfelt kiss. A grunt pushed passed her lips when he lay her down on the nearby couch. She stared at him as he hovered above her on all fours. Despite being aged, he was still gorgeous to her. She still saw the young man with whom she had fallen in love so long ago. He had possessed the true love that she could not escape despite time and other obstacles that had gotten in the way.

Zev burst into the wagon. "Hey, Dad, I - ewww!" He groaned as he saw something he could not unsee. No one likes to see their parents being romantic - no one.

"What, son, what?" Gannon impatiently demanded of the impulsive and unthinking boy with the carrot colored hair. He stood to his feet, ignoring his giggling wife behind him who had wrapped up on a shawl to hide her embarrassed face. Their youngest son had the absolute worst timing in the world.

"There's some strangers nosing around. They're talking to family members and asking a lot of questions," he said, the blush receding from his light colored cheeks.

"Where are Connor and Rafe?"

"They're with them. The two men won't leave before they see the man in charge. Or that's what they say. That's you, isn't it?" It sounded more like a smart aleck challenge than a real question.

Gannon thumped the boy on the forehead. It made a hollow sound like a ripe melon. He yelped in pain and massaged the middle of his forehead that was turning red.

"Are you okay, Mom?" he asked as his father strode past him.

"I'm fine," she assured him before his father seized him by the collar to drag him out with him.

"Come on, boy. You're coming with me."

Willie snatched her cloak from the hook by door, throwing it around her as she hopped down the steps to follow her husband and son. Despite it being a warm spring day, she wore the heavy garment to protect her skin. Pulling the hood up to shield her face, she picked up her ankle length black and white striped skirt to keep from tripping over it as she ran to catch up to them.

The strangers were standing at the edge of the camp that was nearest to the dirt road that led to the city. They were accustomed to inquisitive strangers, visiting their camps and asking questions. Most were just curious about the mysterious gypsies who had come to visit. Others bore malicious intent. These two seemed to be part of the latter group.

Connor and Rafe were standing side by side in front of the two men. The boys were acting as a shield between the strangers and their father and brother. Like good soldiers, their hands were resting on their hips to allow them easy access to the guns in the holsters strapped to the backs of their belts and hidden under their long, lightweight jackets. They had long ago gotten into the habit of carrying guns; guns that shot bullets of pure silver they crafted themselves. A shot to the heart of a vampire slowed it down long enough to give them the upper hand in a fight. A shot in the heart or head of a werewolf meant instant death. Of course, when shot in the heart or head, pretty much any bullet would do but silver was used as a precautionary measure in case it struck the body anywhere else. In their travels, they had come across many terrifying and deadly things, including their own kind. They had encountered rival werewolf packs that gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "dog eat dog world." Vampires seemed to be drawn to them because of their mother. Then of course there were the hunters who wanted them all dead. They believed these men to be hunters, sensing the murderous intent coming from them both. There was something different about one of the men. He might be something more fearsome and daunting than anything they had encountered before. They were all immediately on edge.

Willie had stopped several yards away, standing behind them under the cooling shade of a juniper tree. The green, piney scent reminded her of their castle home that they had left behind many centuries ago. She wanted to go home, to safety and seclusion. Standing under the low branches of the tree, she could see the men clearly but they could not see her. One of the men they were talking to appeared to be a professional man, dressed in a suit complete with a silk vest and dapper white covers over his shoes. Perhaps he was a doctor since he carried a big black bag with him. He looked to be in his fifties with silvery gray hair. Round black rimmed spectacles sat on the bridge of his thin, hooked nose allowing him to see out of his light blue eyes that held a gleam of cruelty in them.

"Can we help you gentlemen?" Connor asked without a using a friendly tone. There was no need to employ insincere pleasantries.

"I would like to know the nature of your business here," the man in glasses said.

"Who are you that our business is any of yours?" Rafe demanded, his hand moving to the handle of his gun.

"Hmmm, I see," the man murmured, keeping the fake grin securely placed on his face. However, his eyes hardened, becoming like sky blue marbles of hatred.

Willie's attention went to the tall silent man standing beside the talkative one. She moved closer, leaving the shelter of the tree to stand behind her husband who hid her with his big body. The first thing she noticed was the unmistakable stench of a vampire; the smell of blood and death. Placing her hand over her nose and mouth, she blocked out the odor before she gagged. The quiet man was skinny, too skinny, as if he were half starved. His long legs were clothed in black leather pants and a crimson coat covered his lengthy arms. The white shirt with frills down the front seemed highly out of place on him. Thick soled, heavy leather boots were on his feet. A floppy, wide brimmed red hat sat on his head hiding most of his face except his pointed chin. He was wearing white gloves with an intricate symbol stitched on the back of them. Every inch of his skin was hidden from the sun. She recognized the symbol as a religious sealing symbol meant to keep something evil under control. Could he be a trained vampire? How incredibly bizarre. Stupid humans. A vampire could never be controlled.

"What do you want here, sir?" Gannon questioned the man.

"You're the leader?" he inquired, receiving a nod of confirmation from Gannon. "Actually, I have a few questions for you. I was hoping that we could share knowledge. I know gypsies have medicine men and women, shamans really, who delve into herbs and spirituality, treating the two as mutually inclusive. They believe that there are ways and means of accessing the spirit world to bring things into this one that only exist in our wildest dreams or fiction books. Are you that man? Are you the medicine man of this clan? This _pack_?" He raised an inquisitive blond eyebrow.

Willie lowered her hand from her face, stepping around her husband for a closer look at the second man who had yet to speak a word. There was something familiar about him besides the fact that he was a vampire and one of her kind. He was a true vampire, one turned by pure vampire blood; not a half human/half vampire breed or a mindless hypnotized slave made by a vampire. But there was something else about him, something more recognizable than his scent. Her belly churned with desire. No. This couldn't be happening. There was nothing about the vampire that enticed her, yet her body seemed to recognize him - and want him. She did not realize she had been moving closer to him until her husband reached out to take her by the hand. Her eyes flew to Gannon's as he pulled her back to him. She squeezed her body against his side, taking shelter under his strong arm that he protectively draped across her shoulders. Like a shy child, she coquettishly raised her eyes to look at the man whose mere presence alarmed her. The thin man tilted back his head to look at her, revealing his angular face. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of round lensed mirrored sunglasses. He smiled at her; a self-satisfied, arrogant smirk that made her feel his desire, his need. She knew that smile.

"Oh, no," she gasped, pressing her shaking fingers to her lips. How could it be him? "Vlad."

"What?" Gannon whispered, his arm tightening around her with crushing force. His eyes full of uneasiness latched onto hers that were filling with tears. "What did you say?" He glimpsed at the vampire who had broken into an open mouthed grin, displaying his sharp fangs for all of them to see. "What is your name, sir? And the name of your companion?"

"Oh, my name?" the stranger repeated as if he had not heard correctly. "My name is Dr. Abraham Hellsing. This is Alucard. I will bid you all good day. We will be seeing you again."

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to come back here, Mr. Hellsing," Connor warned him, reaching for his gun.

"That's Dr. Hellsing to you boy!" he corrected rather rudely. "You _will_ be seeing me again."

Upon first sight of Dr. Abraham Hellsing and his companion Alucard, they had already known they would be seeing him again. The next time would be far less pleasant than this one they were sure.

Alucard? That's Dracula backwards. That presumptuous human must have thought himself rather clever on that name change. Willie was right. That was indeed Vlad standing in front of them. He did not seem to recognize her or Gannon at all. Gannon had changed too, but she had remained the same. Whatever the reason for him not recognizing them, she was glad, yet she was still trembling with fear. Vlad had changed. It was difficult to believe this was the man she had loved for so long; the intimidating and ruthless Vlad Dracul. He was her husband once. He was the man she had lived for - and died for, giving up her eternal soul and forfeiting her place in the after life. Presently, he appeared to be nothing more than a sad, pathetic shadow of himself.

"How can this be?" she gasped, pressing her shaking hand to her forehead. An ache started to grow in her temples, encompassing her head as if an invisible band were compressing her skull.

"Willie? What's wrong?" Gannon asked, sweeping her up into his arms when he felt her whole body go limp.

"Th-that m-man...," she stuttered, struggling to stay conscious.

"Hellsing?"

"No. The other one."

"What about him?"

"That was Vlad. I'm sure of it."

"What?" Gannon almost dropped his wife. "It can't be! Why does he look like that? But...he's dead. Isn't he?"

"Apparently not," Willie murmured, laying her head against her husband's chest. They had been sure Vlad was dead since they had not come across him in their travels for centuries. Why here? Why now? There was only one explanation. Hellsing had come to kill them - _all _of them. He was the hunter and Vlad, or Alucard as he was called now, was the hunting dog. Fate was a real bitch after all.


	18. Chapter 18

Willie sat as far away from the campfire as possible but close enough to still be able to enjoy the fellowship with her family. Open flames still made her feel uneasy, but fires were no longer a crippling fear for her. Besides, at the moment, she had another cause for the unsettling, anxious feeling making her jumpy. Pretending to brush aside the niggling apprehension, she tried to concentrate on her family. She was sitting between Connor and Rafe who each had put a protective arm around her, one around her shoulders and the other around her waist. Addie had wrapped up in the finished wedding quilt and laid her head in her mother's lap. They were practicing singing the traditional gypsy matrimonial songs they would sing at the wedding ceremony.

Willie stole a glance at her husband through the flames of the fire. He was sitting across from her with their sleepy twin girls nestled against him, each kept warm with a brawny arm that held them to his sides. She returned his endearing smile, reveling in the adoration she saw in his stunning blue eyes. Another set of eyes appeared before her: dark ones, black as sin, reflecting the red fires of hell in their marble like glossiness. She gasped and recoiled, accidentally shoving her daughter's head off of her lap in her attempt to retreat from the hyper-realistic vision.

"Mom!" the three equally startled siblings yelled in unison.

"Oh, Addie, I'm so sorry," she murmured, leaning forward to engulf her daughter in a crushing hug.

"Mom? Mom," Addie wheezed, patting her mother on the shoulder. "Mom! I can't breathe."

"Oh, my dear, I'm - "

"I know," her daughter interrupted before her mother could apologize again. She reached out to press her hand to her mother's cheek. "Mother," she snapped as if her mother were the child. "You're worrying too much and you haven't eaten."

"I'm fine," Willie lied, pressing her hand over her daughter's.

"You're not," her feisty daughter countered with a smile on her face. She knew her mother well because they shared many personality traits including stubbornness. "But I won't argue with you. It won't do any good anyway."

"You might be spending too much time in the sun, Willene," her husband piped up across from them. He had used her proper name which let them all know he was agitated with her. "Perhaps you should leave more of the wedding preparations to the girls, do what you can at night, and sleep more during the day," he suggested, his stern tone serving as a warning not to argue with him.

"I think that's a great idea," Willie agreed, getting to her feet. She ignored the shocked expressions not only on the face of her husband but also on the faces of her children since she was not disagreeing with him. Except for Zev. He was peacefully snoring while curled into a ball beside the fire. The twins had fallen asleep in their father's arms. "Gannon, would you like my help getting the girls to bed?"

"No, I can handle it," he assured her, poking Zev in the shoulder with his booted foot. "Hey, boy, wake up. Help me with your sisters then go to your wagon."

"I can help," Willie insisted, hurrying to her husband. She bent down to pick up both of the girls.

"You're not all right, and I know it," Gannon whispered, kissing her cheek.

"After I put the girls to bed, I'm going for a walk. I need to think," she told him, giving him a peck on the lips. She wrapped her arms around the girls, standing up straight with both of them clutched together in a big bear hug against her body.

"Be careful, Milady," he implored her. He watched her as she walked away. Worry seeped into his consciousness along with a cold, bitter fear. Seeing Vlad...no, he was no longer Vlad Dracul. Seeing that man today had upset Willie terribly. Understandably so. Gannon had been shaken to the core himself. Although he did not doubt her love for him, he knew there was a bond between Vlad and Willie that he could never understand - that he had _never _understood. The connection extended beyond their physical being, exceeding heaven and earth and eternity, holding them together for all time. Willie had always held a weakness for Vlad. How much stronger would that vulnerability be now?

"Dad?" Connor called once his mother had disappeared into the wagon with his sisters. When his father turned his eyes on him, he asked, "Who was that man? The one called Alucard. Mother recognized him. Why?"

"You've studied history. Remember Vlad III Dracul, Prince of Wallachia?" Gannon asked, poking at the fire with a stick to stir up the flames.

"Yeah, why?" Connor's eyes widened until his father thought the boy's eyeballs might roll out of his head. "You don't mean..."

"Yes, that man was once the infamous Vlad the Impaler. I was one of his Generals," he admitted candidly. He had never told his children that before. Most of the history he had taught them was mainly from having experienced it first hand. The rest came from reading books. He had taken liberties to omit some of the history that he had personally taken part in.

"That can't be true!" Zev exclaimed, suddenly wide awake.

"It is. We met a band of gypsies one day when headed to battle. The leader was named Maurus. He was the Alpha of the pack then. But I'm getting ahead of myself," he sighed. He nor his wife had ever fully disclosed the story of how they had become what they are to their children. Their was no time like the present to tell their offspring the whole story of how they became a vampire and a werewolf since the past had come for a visit.

Willie could hear Gannon talking but could not make out his exact words as she exited the wagon that the girls shared with their big sister. She sighed sadly. Soon it would just be the twins living quarters. She strained to hear what her husband was saying but he was talking at a low volume. His voice sounded extremely intense so she assumed it was another history lesson. Her husband believed that knowing history, gleaning knowledge from the mistakes of others, would prevent future generations from making those same mistakes. They had learned quite a few harsh lessons themselves. But it was too late for them. Some bad decisions, can never be repaired or redeemed - at least by the ones who made them.

Willie pulled her cloak around her shoulders, leaving the hood down this time. The mist hanging in the night air covered her like a veil. She walked confidently in the darkness with unhindered eyesight. She made her way to the outskirts of the camp where trails had been cut through the high grass by the boots of the lycan soldiers who patrolled at night. They protected the pack from inquisitive thrill seekers and the more menacing threat of glory hogs seeking to give themselves a name by killing a werewolf. The soldiers had been put on high alert since the visitation of Hellsing and his guard dog, Alucard. No one was supposed to leave camp and especially not alone. She brazenly stepped across the border made by the sentinels to walk toward the wooded area behind the mansion. As she approached the treeline, the creeping sensation of being watched made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her whole body prickled as if she were being poked by a thousand needles. Goosebumps rose to the surface of her skin. He was nearby. She could feel him with every part of her being. The passage of time had not severed their connection. She could distinguish his presence in close proximity.

"Come out," she demanded, her eyes focused on the trees straight in front of her. She rubbed her hand across the back of her neck in an attempt to rid herself of the pins and needles sensation that was making her nerves raw.

"How did you know I was here?" Alucard asked, jumping down from where he had been poised on the pointed top of a pine tree. He had been hovering, his booted foot touching the tip of the branch that was too delicate to support him. From his vantage point high in the sky, he had been watching the poignant picture of familial bliss. His attention had been riveted on the woman who was standing in front of him. She did not look happy to see him. However, he was happy to see her as indicated by the weird fluttering sensation in his chest and the quivering deep in his belly.

Willie backed away from him since he was standing close enough to touch her. She folded her arms over her chest under the cloak as if to physically protect her runaway heart. She resisted the urge to walk straight back into his arms. He was beckoning her to come to him, to be his again, without saying a single word.

"I could feel your presence. I know you. I know everything about you. Or I used to know everything about you," she corrected herself.

"Mmmmm," he murmured, rubbing his hand over his heart that was thumping against his rib cage. "Is that what this feeling is? I find it quite disconcerting."

_Yes, that makes two of us, _she commiserated silently, keeping her sharp, suspicious eyes on him. When he looked at her, she could see the want, the need in him, yet there was no recognition whatsoever. Either his acting skills had improved over the centuries or he genuinely did not know who she was to him. She had no idea which was the truth of the matter. Her body trembled as his eyes roamed over from head to toe and back up again. That deepest part of her wanted to feel his embrace, to experience of his kiss. Her eyes studied every angle of his thin, pointy face. The drastic transformation of his appearance made it difficult to believe this was Vlad, the one she had loved for so long. Yet there was no doubt this was him, the man she had given her heart and her humanity to, pledging to be his for eternity. She had no idea that forever could be so brief. He was the one who had broken their vows. She had waited, but he never came. And now here he stood before her without a clue of her identity, of what she meant to him. Her face hardened, and she glared at him when he stepped toward her.

"Tell me who you are," he commanded her, extending his hand toward her face. He gingerly held his hand to his chest after she slapped it away violently.

"Don't touch me," she growled, struggling to withhold her rage. If he had just stayed with her that night...well, who knows what might have happened. Perhaps both of them would have died in that fire, but at least they would have been together. Her heart felt as if it were being clawed into tiny pieces because he was staring at her blankly as if seeing her for the first time.

"Who are you? I want to know. I _need _to know. This feeling..." He paused, massaging his chest over his heart to make his point. "This feeling inside tells me that you were someone very special to me. Someone I loved."

Willie visibly flinched, shrinking back from him. Her head swam, and her balance faltered. She gasped when she found herself in his arms being held against his scrawny chest. Despite his emaciated appearance, she could feel his strength, particularly since he was holding her securely in his arms and close to his body.

"Please, I want to know you again." He brought his gloved hand to his mouth, grasping the cotton material of the forefinger between his teeth. After removing the glove, he pushed his fingers into the cloud of silky, brown-red curls on her head. This felt good and oh, so right to him. He had held her like this before, many times. He was sure of it.

"You really don't know? You don't remember who I am?" she questioned him, wondering what kind of mind game he was playing with her. As his fingers brushed across her cheek on their way back into her hair, she wanted to sigh and melt into him.

"I don't know who I am either," he said, his dark eyes fixing themselves on hers that glowed the most lovely shade of green. They were like a cat's eyes when lamplight refracted in them. "Tell me," he implored her, his head lowering toward hers. "Tell me who I was. I want to know who you are. In my strangest and most confusing dreams, I have met you many times. Through foggy memories I have seen you." His hand stroked down her cloak, enjoying the sensation of the soft wool under his fingertips. "You were wearing this very cloak. But I could never see your face." His hand moved to her face, stroking her cheek lightly. "I finally got to see your face for the first time today. It's more beautiful than I could have imagined. I just wish...I just wish I could remember you."

"Perhaps it's best if you don't remember the past," she said, struggling to free herself from his embrace. When he refused to let her go, her eyes fixed themselves on his. "Please, release me. Whatever was in the past between us no longer exists."

Alucard did not believe her words. Her eyes told him a different story. She was sad and angry, but there was another and equally strong emotion lurking underneath. There were shreds of love dispersed among the other powerful emotions. The love was hopelessly splintered and fragmented, but it was there.

"I haven't come to kill you...tonight," he said, smiling at her.

"Well, isn't that comforting?"

"Please, tell me who you are? Tell me what you mean to me. I'm sure it's something important."

Willie closed her eyes briefly when his smooth fingertips glided down her neck toward the bow that she had tied at her neck to close her cloak. Her eyes opened and carefully observed the back of his hand as he pulled the braided silken cord to release the bow. The same symbol that was on the glove had been tattooed on the back of his hand in red ink, red as blood. She gritted her teeth when his elegant fingers pushed aside the material as they skimmed her chest, the tips pressing to the swell of her breast next to her heart.

"You have haunted me in my dreams. You have consumed my waking fantasies. I believe you are my fondest memory."

"Stop this," she requested, her voice pleading and weak. She cursed herself for allowing her susceptibility to his charms to seep into her voice. Her body trembled due to his breath wafting across her lips when he lowered his head further toward her. "Let me go."

"Do you really want me to release you?" His lips brushed across hers.

It was as if Willie had been struck by lightning. Every nerve in her body sizzled with an electrical sting and a fire erupted inside of her. Instead of sinking into his kiss like he would have liked, she pressed her hands to his chest to shove him away from her with all of her might. She stood panting like a wild, angry beast as he slid back from her, his boots making parallel lines across the ground as they peeled back the grass to reveal damp earth.

"Why do you want to kill us?" she asked, standing still as he strode back toward her. She obstinately met his gaze, refusing to allow the warm, fuzzy romantic notions to worm their way back into her heart or mind. "You tell me what I want to know. I will tell you what you want to know."

"A woman who knows how to bargain. What makes you think I'll barter information with you?" he challenged her. A lopsided pompous smirk shifted his lips accentuating his prominent incisors.

"You're with one with no memories. I have all of mine completely intact," she responded, tapping her temple. "You will tell me what I want to know because there are things that you want to know and only I can tell you. So you decide."

"Tch," he muttered in disgust, glowering heavily at her. He had no choice. She was right. If he wanted to know anything about his identity, about his past, he would have to answer her question. "I have been ordered to kill you because you and your pack have been running around the countryside indiscriminately murdering humans. Hellsing has declared himself a protector of humanity, and ironically enough, is using me to accomplish his goal. He is the one who stole my memories."

"Stole your memories? Well, that's too bad isn't it?" she sneered, her voice devoid of the slightest sympathy.

Alucard did not care if she felt sorry for him. He did not deserve her pity nor did he want it. Although she had appeared shy, reserved, somewhat timid, he could see that he had been mistaken.

"We most certainly have not been killing humans!" she exclaimed, offended by the accusation. "We have not killed a single human being...ever! As a matter of fact, we've encountered a few of these rogue werewolf packs." She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "We killed as many as we could in order to protect people. Those murderers are an embarrassment, and a danger, to humans and other werewolves. Many times we barely got away with our own lives." She caught his eyes before speaking her next words. "We've killed vampires before as well. I won't be opposed to killing another one."

Alucard chuckled lightly at her blatant threat. He had no doubt she would try to kill him but seriously doubted she would be able to do so. Pulling his glove back onto his hand, he said, "I would ask how you could kill your own kind so easily but that would be hypocritical of me."

"You've never had much of a problem with being a hypocrite," she returned so acerbically that his attention was immediately drawn back to her. "I recall that most times you rather enjoyed it greatly."

Alucard chuckled again, genuinely amused. "I wish I could remember you. I should think you would be a most entertaining woman to have in my life."

"Puh," she snorted, her lip peeling back from her teeth in disgust. "I will never be a part of your life again."

"Don't be so sure," he rejoined, allowing the threat to be conveyed clearly to her. "Please, tell me this, were we intimate?"

"Quite," she answered, a tight smile forming on her lips. "I was your wife."

"My wife?" He was visibly taken aback, stumbling backwards away from her as if being married were a disease he might catch.

"Don't worry about having to pick up on your husbandly duties that you willingly, and literally, walked away from. I have a husband. A loyal, loving man who will never leave me to pursue his own selfish desires." She turned on her heel, walking away from him a few steps as if to illustrate her emotional separation from him with a physical display of putting distance between them.

"Yes, so I saw today. A werewolf is he?" he inquired with a demeaning tone.

"Yes, a werewolf," she replied, keeping her back to him. He was enjoying the verbal sparring way too much to attack her physically.

"So what are the children?"

"None of your concern. That's what my children are."

The cocky smile fell from his face as if she had slapped him with her hand instead of issuing an acidic verbal retort. "You're angry with me?"

"Perceptive as always, Master," she snapped, turning her upper body to give him a sidelong look. She had spoken those exact words to him once in another lifetime when both of them were different people. Maybe that would spark a recollection in his clouded brain.

Déja vu swept over him a tangible wave of heat as if he had been doused with hot water. He could see the two of them standing inside what looked like a stable. The memory was so vivid that he could smell the hay and horseflesh, hear the horses snorting and his own heavy breathing. He had a ring in his hand, a small silver band with a pair of angel's wings etched onto it. He slid the ring onto her finger. He was wearing a matching ring on a necklace, pledging his love to her. "I loved you greatly. Willene."

"What?" she breathed, whirling around to face him. "Say that again."

"Willene. That's your name," he mumbled, staggering under the crushing weight of the memories that flooded his mind. A vision of her in his arms followed. He was kissing her ardently and tenderly; he could feel it. Moments frozen in time exploded inside in brain, falling one on top of the other before he could even comprehend each one. In a blood laden horrific scene from the past, he could see Willie dressed in brown leather armor. She was a soldier, standing on the battlefield amidst a macabre scene of men impaled on spears in the most cruel fashion. Then another recollection of her white skin emitting an ethereal light as he made love to her under the full moon. After that, a mental picture of her, vampiric fangs bared before she sunk them into the neck of a young man. Faster and faster the images came, daring to drive him insane from the deluge of emotions they evoked inside of him. He could hear her laughter and her melodic voice whispering 'I love you' in his ear. Suddenly, she disappeared from the visions of his past. At last, the glut of recollections ceased pounding his overwhelmed mind. He dropped to his knees, sweating and panting from the unexpected high speed trip down memory lane. "Wh-what happened? Why did you suddenly disappear from my past?"

"Because you left me," she told him, her voice frigid and brittle like the ice that invaded her heart. Moving toward him with measured steps, she came to stand in front of him. Reaching down, she took his chin in her hand to pull his head up so he would have to look at her. Smiling menacingly, revealing the long canine teeth she possessed in both her upper and lower jaws, she spoke to him. "You left me and I almost died. The priest warned you, then he warned me, to stay out of the village. I told you...I told you they were coming to kill us. You left me to go hunting in the village. I begged you not to go. But you left me anyway. I almost burned to death because you weren't there," she hissed, spittle flying past her lips to speckle his face with white foamy droplets. So many times she had relived that night of fiery annihilation in nightmares from which she would awaken screaming. The sense of betrayal and sadness that Vlad's absence had caused her was just as powerful and devastating, as it had been been on that fateful night. His betrayal had damaged her more than that the fire ever could have. Yet she had still waited for him. What a fool. Gannon had been right. She pressed her shaking fingers to her forehead, closing her eyes. "Stupid. I'm so stupid."

Alucard stood to his feet in front of her, keeping his eyes on hers. Black lines had formed under her pale skin, zigzagging across her entire face and neck. He reached out for her, receiving a shockingly forceful slap across his face. She was strong; much stronger than she looked and much stronger than he expected her to be. Underestimating her seemed to be a habit for him. He cried out and gnashed his teeth together when her fingers gripped his bony shoulders, her thumbs pressing against his collar bones. The gut wrenching snap of bone met his ears seconds before the searing, white hot pain shot down his left arm. Then she broke his right collar bone, causing the surge of agony to race down his right arm.

"I waited for you. I waited for so long," she snarled, tears streaming down her cheeks streaked with black lines under her skin. Anger toward him and herself boiled inside of her. She seized him by the lapels of his jacket that matched her cloak in color. "I would have died waiting for you but - " Her words were interrupted by a sob that took her breath away. She cried out in uncontrollable rage, pushing him away from her. Dropping to a squatting position, her fingernails that had lengthened into talons sank into the earth. She threw back her head and howled.

Alucard covered his ears, stumbling back from her. The keening sound, high pitched and deafening, hurt his ears and made his heart ache. Not only could he hear the sadness in her voice, he could feel it vibrating through his body. It hurt. He cried out, joining her howl.

"What are you?" he asked, baffled by her behavior and her appearance. She seemed to be as much of a werewolf as she was a vampire. But she was something else. The black lines under her skin grew thicker and more extensive.

"You made me become this. I loved you. I died for you. And you left me. I was supposed to be yours forever, but you never came back!" She sat back on her heels, kneeling in front of him. A sob of heart ache made her whole body convulse before she unleashed torrents of tears. "You never came back."

"Willie," Alucard whispered, dropping down to his knees in front of her. He pulled her into his arms, rocking her gently from side to side. "I am sorry. I am truly so very sorry."

Willie allowed her fingernails to withdraw before she grasped fistfuls of his jacket. She buried her face into the ruffles of the shirt he was wearing, pouring out her grief and rage in tears. The web-like design of black veins under her skin disappeared. "I beg of you not to hurt me any more. Don't steal my family from me before their time."

"What do you mean?" He grunted as the broken collar bones moved under the muscles to complete knitting back together.

"One day I will be forced to watch my husband die. I will out live my children. It will be my responsibility to bury them. Please, allow them to live until their proper time to die." When he stared at her in confusion, she continued. "Werewolves are not immortal, you idiot. Don't you know that?"

"No. I didn't," he answered, obviously perplexed.

"I guess your master is not quite as smart as he thinks he is."

"He's a pompous ass who doesn't know half of what he _thinks _he knows," Alucard returned with his typical frankness. He stood to his feet, pulling Willie with him. "Leave. Take your family and go."

"What?" Willie asked, not believing her ears. "What are you saying?"

"Leave here. Now. Get as far away from England as you can. I will return to my master and tell him when I arrived to attack you that you had already vacated the area," he said, taking his hands off of her arms and stepping back from her.

"Why would you do that for us?"

"Make no mistake, Willene that I am doing this for you and you alone. It's not for your husband or your children, and certainly not your pack," Alucard sneered, his lip curling back from his teeth in revulsion. The sentiment in eyes softened, making him look almost human, as he gazed at Willie who was staring up at him, wide-eyed with disbelief. He swiftly gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. "It's become quite apparent to me that I didn't treat you as you deserved to be treated. I can't change the past, but I can do something for you presently that I hope will ease your pain." The heartfelt emotion in his eyes deepened as he continued speaking to her. "Hurry and go. Live out the time you have left with your family. Being forced to watch them die slowly will be a far worse fate than anything myself or Hellsing can put you through."

Willie placed her hand over her belly as if attempting to stop the churning before she became sick. His words, cruel but correct, made her want to vomit. She would be forced to watch them all die gradually before her very eyes. Until their inevitable end came, she would love them dearly and make the most of every minute with them. Turning away, she started taking slow, unsteady steps toward the camp. Vlad had never been prone to mercy, and she doubted his new incarnation named Alucard was given to many kindnesses either. Her family had been given an opportunity to escape bloodshed and get out without starting a battle or taking the chance of losing their lives. The wedding would have to be postponed, and the kids would have to find a new place to be married. By leaving here as soon as possible, they would all live to see it happen.

Willie turned back to take one last glimpse at the one called Alucard. Her eyes met his, and he smiled, a genuine, loving smile meant just for her. For a brief second she could see the man she had fallen in love with so long ago. Holding his eyes, she could hear his voice in her head.

_Return to me. Our time to reunite as we should has not yet come. You are my one and only forever love. __I have loved you for a long time. And I can love you for a long time to come. I will remember you. __This time, I will wait for you.  
_


	19. Chapter 19

Alucard entered Hellsing's study through the open second floor window. The man was sitting in his favorite wing back chair in front of the dying fire. With a cigar in one hand and a mostly empty brandy snifter in the other, Abraham Hellsing was indulging in his two favorite vices, carrying out his usual evening routine as if nothing unusual was happening. Of course, the abnormal was normal for them. His life had become deluged with the paranormal. Chasing the beings of myth and legend who owned the night were his bread and butter, how he had collected his vast fortune and added to it daily. His domesticated vampire did most of the work, but he had captured that vampire himself. A feral, unfathomable creature of the night he used to set about killing werewolves, ghouls, and other things that come out to prey on humanity. So sending his pet out to kill was nothing out of the ordinary, only business as usual.

"So? Is it done? Are they dead?" Abraham Hellsing demanded gruffly.

Alucard had winced with the cruel emphasis Hellsing had placed on the word dead. He could not imagine his precious Willene dead. Too late he realized the loss of his memory had been a gift. A rare blessing had been bestowed upon one as undeserving as him. Since he had remembered, the guilt of forgetting such an important person in his life squeezed his chest like an invisible vice making it difficult to breathe. She had moved on and made a life for herself without him - and that was no one's fault but his own. If he had stayed with her, protected her, he could have brought her out safely, and she would still be all his. But it was too late. Too late for an apology, too late for everything except to wait for time to once again take it's course. Time seemed to travel in circles or at least intersecting lines. One day, their paths would cross again. He was sure of it.

"Well?" his Master barked impatiently.

Alucard glowered at the back of the Hellsing's gray head barely visible above the high back of the chair. Anger burned like the fires of hell inside of him. One day that bastard would get what was coming to him. He had the capacity to turn on his master like so many beasts who have been caged by an even more savage master. However, he knew that he would not be the one to kill Abraham Hellsing. There were others, two in particular, much closer to the man, joined by blood, who had a greater potential and far greater desire to see the old patriarch dead.

"When I arrived, no one was there. They had already packed up and left," he lied without hesitation.

"Why did you not give chase? At best they were only half a day's journey away. You're fast enough. You could have caught them and killed them."

Abraham stood up from his chair, turning to face the vampire who betrayed him. His eyes exhibited his rage; a contained, purposeful anger that he directed at the traitor. Raising his gun loaded with specially made hollow point silver bullets that contained holy water and slivers of the very cross on which Christ was crucified, he aimed at Alucard's heart.

The bullets had been made by a special group of Catholic priests for this purpose. Those worthless Catholics did have some damn fine artisans. The bullets had been stolen from the dead bodies of a sect of assassin priests who belonged to a group called Section XIII who had come to kill Alucard but failed miserably in their mission. Hellsing congratulated himself on being forward thinking enough to save these bullets for the day this feral dog with bloodthirsty fangs would turn on him.

"I knew you would betray me. All wild animals turn on their masters at some point. I had no idea it would be so soon." He ceased speaking so the click of cocking his gun would preface his next words. "A disobedient dog must be punished. Put down for his transgression."

"I have fought for men far greater than you. I have sinned against God who is above us all. Why do you think you deserve more reverence and loyalty than these?"

Hellsing's face reddened as his anger grew exponentially from the degrading snub delivered with jubilant disdain as evidenced by the smirk on the vampire's thin lips. He raised the sight of the gun to aim between Alucard's eyes. He had six shots. Beginning from the top, he would place the first shot in the vampire's brain. The second would be delivered into that filthy hole of his that spouted such hateful words. The third would go through his larynx, ripping apart his vocal cords, which enabled him to voice those treacherous words. Four, five, and six would all go into his black heart. The vampire would have to be dead after that.

"You have no place in this world...or the next. You're neither dead nor alive. You're not human and not a demon. You turned your back on heaven yet you have been locked out of hell. You're stuck somewhere uncomfortably in between and you always will be until someone steals your immortality. Then you will cease to exist entirely. You're going to die now," Hellsing threatened with every intention of making good on his threat.

"You can't kill me," Alucard reminded him.

"It won't stop me from trying. Good night, sweet Prince," Hellsing announced, squeezing the trigger.

Alucard gritted his teeth, preparing for the agonizing pain that would come when the bullet entered his body. Holy Water burned like fire and would rush through his veins like volcanic lava. He could only imagine the horrific torture that would be inflicted with those splinters that would imbed themselves inside his body. Having endured unmentionable torture of all kinds, having survived two other attempts at snuffing him out of existence, he was confident he would get through this. He just hated the pain. The distinct crack of the weapon firing broke the silence and made his body ache. Closing his eyes tightly, he waited. When there was no impact, no sting of flesh being torn apart by the bullet, he opened his eyes.

Hellsing stood stiffly with his eyes open wide, staring but not seeing. His arm had moved upward, sending the bullet over Alucard's head into the wall behind him. Blood pooled at the corners of the man's mouth before leaking from one side to zigzag downward where it dripped from him chin. A three sided, diamond shaped spearhead had exited through Hellsing's chest in the exact location of his heart. It belonged to one of the trophy spears that usually adorned the hall of the second floor of the manor and was a part of Hellsing's extensive weapons collection. Blood dripped from the tip onto the floor. The man's knees buckled and his body followed suit to the blood, falling onto the brightly colored Persian rug.

Once Abraham fell, he revealed a terrified, wild eyed son who had been standing behind him. Arthur firmly held the handle of the spear in his white knuckled hands that were beginning to shake. Him holding onto the spear was the only thing keeping his dead father's body in a kneeling position rather than toppling forward onto his face.

Alucard was sufficiently impressed. He had not seen nor heard the boy enter the room through the door that had been behind his father. Using one of his father's prized possessions to kill him so savagely was equally notable. The boy had proven himself to be a worthy new master already.

"Young Master," Alucard whispered, staring at the frightened teenager who looked much younger than his thirteen years. He slowly approached the boy whose big eyes sightlessly stared straight ahead. Unsure if the boy had heard him speak, he called his first name but received no response.

Of course the child was in shock. Arthur had just murdered his father. No matter how deserving the senior Hellsing had been of his demise, it had been no easy task for his son to perform.

Alucard gently peeled Arthur's fingers, one at a time, from the wooden shaft attached to the spearhead. Once they had all been removed, he took the weapon from the boy allowing it and the dead body to fall to the floor with a hollow thud. Crouching to be eye level with the youngster who was pale and trembling with shock, he spoke a single word, a question. "Why?"

"I couldn't let him kill you," Arthur answered, his eyes still unfocused and his voice quavery. "You're too important to this family, to the Hellsing Organization." His light blue eyes flickered to Alucard's face, focusing on him. "To me."

Alucard glanced at the dead man lying on the floor. How inexplicably barbaric and selfish was this man that his own son preferred the company of a vampire over that of his father? His gaze switched back to Arthur who was almost completely free of the fugue, the shock of murdering his own father starting to dispel.

"I saw you...at the camp, talking to that woman," Arthur said, his eyes following the movements of the vampire as Alucard stood up straight.

"Oh? Why did you follow me?" he inquired, walking to the liquor cabinet. The boy had just successfully made his first kill. A drink was in order. He poured brown liquid from one of the decorative crystal decanters into a short wide glass. At the moment, the alcohol would be more for medicinal purposes to soothe the boy's nerves than for celebratory for reasons.

"I wanted to see. I wanted to see the gypsies, to see why father was so interested in them. Why you were so interested." He took the glass from Alucard. The whiskey sloshed over the side due to his violently shaking hand. "Then I realized there was really only one gypsy you were interested in."

"Did you come back home to tell your father what happened?"

"No. I stayed. I listened."

Alucard patiently assisted the boy, putting his hand over Arthur's small white hand to steady the glass at his mouth. He chuckled lightly when the boy started to wheeze and cough after taking a good sip. His esophagus felt like it was on fire from the nasty fluid. The warmth that flooded his cold body was welcoming though. Once the coughing fit was over, he took another sip and grimaced but was all right otherwise.

"What business was our conversation of yours Master Arthur?" He crouched down in front of boy. There were droplets of blood spattered across Arthur's ghostly pale cheeks like grisly red freckles.

"I'll admit it was none of my business," he replied, walking around Alucard. He plopped down in his father's chair to be near the fire. He needed to ward off the chill of being a cold blooded killer. "Is she like you? A vampire?"

"I'm not sure what she is anymore. Her pure blood has been tainted by that of a werewolf. She's something we've never encountered before. Just as her children are. They're true mixed bloods, hybrids, a breed that has never existed until now," he murmured as if thinking out loud.

"She's beautiful. Terrifying, but beautiful," Arthur mumbled, raising his eyes to look at the vampire who was kneeling beside the body of his father. "I can see why you love her."

"There's so much more to her than her pretty face. Hmmmm," Alucard murmured thoughtfully, pulling off his gloves. He pressed his fingertips to the sticky wetness soaking Hellsing's white dressing gown under his maroon velvet robe. He stared at the lovely red liquid staining the pads of his fingers. It was still warm. He sniffed. It had a fantastic tangy, metallic aroma. A fresh, hot meal was a luxury he had not experienced in far too long. "Young master, I think you should leave. I will clean up this mess for you."

"Alucard, one day, will you feed upon my body?" Arthur questioned the ravenous vampire. He was young, but he was not an idiot. He knew Alucard intended to drain his father's body of every last drop of blood. He did not care. He had waited long enough to see his father bleed. His father was a violent man who had given both of his sons many bloody noses and lips. Rather than allowing the golden rule to come around to deliver Abraham Hellsing his punishment, Arthur had doled out his own bit of justice for himself and his little brother.

"No, Master Arthur, I will not," the vampire assured him.

"I have freed us both from the prison created by my father. You can go or you can stay. I leave the choice to you." Arthur inhaled a lengthy, shaky breath. "If you stay, I can promise you that I will not harm your beloved - or her family. From what I heard, they could be considered our allies. Or at the very least, they are fighting the same enemies we are. We can allow them to assist us in their own way by not interfering with them. I am sure they will not interfere with us."

"You are wise for one so young. I will stay," Alucard told him.

The decision to stay had been made to ensure that Arthur Hellsing would uphold his promise. He also had a promise of his own to keep. He had promised Willie that he would wait. It would be best for him to stay put so she could find him when the time came for her to return to him. Otherwise he would have to wait that much longer for her. He had all of eternity, but he was still a maddeningly impatient man when it came to his beloved Willene.


	20. Chapter 20

The whole gypsy family took refuge in the northernmost corner of Ireland. They were on a different land mass and as far away as they could get from London, England in a relatively short amount of time. There was a wedding to hold, and they had already uprooted the young couple from their chosen place to marry to run for their lives. The grass covered cliff overlooking the ocean would be their new temporary home. The amazing vista and rich, bold colors reminded them of their mountaintop home in Transylvania.

It was also an absolutely glorious place to have a wedding. The few trees in the area were congregated in a circle forming a natural chapel. Low bushes dotted with flowers of snow white and sunny yellow provided nature's best in decorations. The cloudless blue sky and emerald green grass created a fantastic backdrop. The waves and the breeze from the ocean made peaceful music adding an element of tranquility for the joyous occasion.

Gannon performed the wedding ceremony. As the Alpha Male of the pack and the present King of the Gypsies, it was his solemn duty to officiate the ceremony. Tears of joy swam in his eyes and emotion made his voice catch occasionally as he recited the words to bond his daughter to her chosen mate. Willie assisted with tying the couple's hands together with a red silk scarf. It was a part of the wedding ritual to signify binding their lives together with blood, making them one.

Willie held Gannon's gaze as they both spoke words of blessing over their daughter and her husband, wishing them a long, happy life together and invoking fertility for producing many offspring. The blessing of fertility had worked fabulously for them. She moved to stand beside her husband when it was time for the parents of the son-in-law to provide their sanctioning of the marriage in front of the entire gypsy troupe.

Wine was brought out next and poured into a large wooden cup that was passed between the parents and the young couple to show the unification of their children and their bloodlines by sharing a toast. When it was over, the cup was thrown into the bonfire that had been lit. The fire exploded in a burst of orange and red light with a mysterious flash of purple occurring in the middle of the flames.

Willie gasped and pressed her body to her husband's side. She sheepishly looked up at him, her lips quivering in a smile of embarrassment as the fear subsided from her eyes.

"It's okay. I'm here with you. Nothing can hurt you," he assured her, giving her a gentle smile to comfort her.

"I know," she whispered, placing her hand against his square jaw. "I feel so silly for still reacting like that after all this time."

"We both know what you went through. There was more to that ordeal than just the fire. Don't think about it," he told her, kissing her forehead. "It's a joyous day! Our daughter is married!"

Willie could tell that although it was indeed a happy occasion, having to release his sweet daughter, his precious baby girl, to another man was tearing him apart inside. Pulling his face down to hers, she kissed his lips briefly. Her actions sparked a free for all of congratulatory hugging and kissing among the family members.

The musicians pulled out their instruments and began to play. Food and drink had been laid out on long tables. The celebration would last for days. After several days of feasting and merrymaking, they would settle into a day to day routine for a while. Once a few months had passed, they would load up and move on. They had to keep moving. Not only was it the gypsy way, but they had to stay ahead of any threat that might find them. Safe havens were only temporary. There was nowhere they could run, nowhere they could hide permanently, to escape the ones who hunted for them to kill them.

Addie sat beside her new husband at the place of honor at the wedding table. Her fingers interlaced with his as their parents joined the other dancers around the bonfire. Her eyes remained riveted on her mother and father as they performed the elegant dance of spring. They had wanted to hold their wedding in spring because it was a time of renewal and birth - and hope. Hope was something they seemed to have in short supply lately. Bitter tears stung the backs of her eyes. She felt Felix, her husband, squeezing her hand.

"Are you happy?" Felix asked, leaning close to her to kiss her cheek.

Addie pressed her hand to his cheek, holding his face still so she could kiss his lips. She had seen her mother do this very thing to her father many times. It was always such a sweet gesture to her. Her lips curled into a smile as she looked into his dark brown eyes that matched the warm golden brown shade of his shaggy shoulder length hair. He was so different from her father and brothers in looks. However, he was just as loyal and loving as them, possessing a gentle strength like the men she had loved first. That was what had made her love him and choose him to be with her for the rest of her life. "I'm extremely happy. I love you."

"I love you too," he returned, a light blush tinting his tanned cheeks. He took her by the hand, pulling her to her feet. "Come dance with me. Today is a day to celebrate! You have finally become my wife!"

Addie laughed, grasping his hand tightly as he pulled her toward the others to join in the fun. He was like her father and Zev; perceptive of her moods and unwilling to permit her to be sad. She loved him so much.

Gannon positioned Willie in front of him and slightly to the side with her back to him. He placed one of his large hands on the back of her neck and set the other on the curve of her hip. The rest of the dancers followed suit, preparing for the courtship dance. The dance began with the man standing behind the woman, leading her around to symbolize the chase, the pursuit of his chosen love interest. The men gradually moved closer to their partners, bridging the gap between them.

Willie sighed, closing her eyes as Gannon's hand stole across her belly to enclose her waist as he pulled her body against his. Her hands held onto his forearm that locked across her chest to hold her back firmly to his chest. Heat flooded her body when his lips touched her cheek. Their bodies swayed in unison to the music. This was her favorite part of the dance. The chase was over. She had been caught by her suitor, the man she loved in return. Her eyelids slowly lifted as her husband turned her to face him. A smile curled her lips as one of his hands settled on her waist, the other grasping her hand. Now the courtship part of the dance would begin.

The music was slow and the foot movements were a simple two step, tentative and easy for those who might be unsure, like the start of a relationship. The music tempo increased and the dance steps became more intricate just like the dance of a relationship as it progressed. Finally, at the end, the dancers were whirling and laughing, barely able to keep up with each other. Some people fell down from being dizzy or tripping over their partner's feet. Others just stopped, collapsing into each others arms to embrace one another or share a kiss. Whatever happened by the end of the dance, it was great fun and everyone enjoyed it.

"I want to be in love like your parents," Felix whispered in Addie's ear after glancing at the couple who were locked in each others arms and giggling like children between chaste pecks on the lips. "They've been together for two centuries yet they act like they are the ones who just got married today."

"Yeah," she murmured, unable to stop a tear from escaping her eye. There was no doubt in her mind that she loved her husband, and they would always be happy together. However, she did not want to have to go through what her parents did to be in love like they were.

Last night, before the wedding, her mother had told her the entirety of their love story. There were many obstacles that had kept them apart. Major stumbling blocks to their relationship included another man and long separations. There were other, aggravating ones such as pride or plain pigheadedness. Then there was the extra added fun of dabbling in the spiritual realm and magic beyond the ethereal plane of existence that had made them both into something beyond human understanding. Her parents deserved every happiness that came their way.

"Oh, it's time," Felix warned her as the crowd converged upon them.

"What? Time for what? Oh, no," Addie gasped as she was seized by her brothers and forced into a chair decorated with flowers and ribbons.

Addie looked over at her husband who was being carried in another decorated chair. It was time for them to go to the wedding tent to consummate their marriage vows. Sometimes in the gypsy clan there was such a thing as too much family, especially in intimate matters like this. But it was all part of the fun and games, the celebration of the wedding. The chairs were sat down in front of the open flap of the white tent. Addie could feel her body trembling with anticipation as Felix took her into his arms to kiss her. The whole gypsy family let loose with whoops of encouragement and shrieks of joy. Some howled like the wolves they were. With a small wave and red cheeked faces, the couple disappeared into the tent.

"What do we do now?" Willie questioned her husband who picked her up and swung her around.

"We could eat and drink some more," Gannon suggested, setting her down on her feet in front of him.

"Mmmm, nah, I'm still full from eating earlier." She ran her fingers along the edges of his shirt front allowing her fingertips to drift over his chest that was bared between the lacing. "We could retire to our wagon. Just the two of us."

"Are you tired?" he asked her, raising one of her hands to his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

"No," she answered, looking into his eyes.

"Oh?" He finally understood her meaning when one of her eyebrows raised slightly, and she suggestively licked her lips. "Oh!"

Willie giggled when he swung her up into his arms to hold her in a bridal carry as he took her away to remind her that she was his bride. The wagons were set apart from the wedding festivities, but her husband covered the distance quickly using long steps and a hurried gait. She sighed when he lay her down on the velvet covered couch inside their little home.

"Are you happy?" Gannon asked her, hovering above her on all fours.

"I'm happier than I ever dreamed I could be. Thank you," she said, pulling his lips down to hers for a kiss.

"Why are you thanking me?" His eyes gazed into hers, seeing the tears there.

"For loving me and giving me everything I ever wanted," she murmured. Her eyes drifted closed as he bent his head to capture her lips.

Guilt stabbed Willie's heart like a dagger as her husband kissed her passionately to convey his deepest most sincere feelings. She had been thinking about Vlad - Alucard. Many times the image of him, the tall, thin man he had become, drifted into her mind. He looked different on the outside, but he was still the same on the inside. As much as she hated to admit it, she was still inexplicably drawn to him. She remembered the feeling of his lips on hers and his hands on her body. She wondered if they would feel the same. Her time with Gannon was swiftly drawing to a close. That fact terrified her more than her lingering feelings and idealizations of Alucard. Perhaps that was why she was thinking so much about Alucard. She already knew she would return to him upon the death of her husband.

Gannon kissed her forehead as he held her tightly. There did not seem to be an escape from the past. Particularly a specific aspect of it. Willie had not been quite the same since their encounter with Alucard. Although he had a different name and did not look like the same man, he was still Vlad Dracul through and through. The damn man had been able to escape death and despite not being intentional, he had found Willie again. Perhaps there really was no way to fight destiny or fate or just plain bad luck - whatever it was that kept bringing them back together. Vlad was the one man who had been her greatest source of joy and pain. Apparently, Willie would forever be drawn back to him to suffer at some point. Gannon had uselessly tried to break that cycle but there was no stopping it. His arms tightened around her. One day he would die, then she would again belong to Vlad, or Alucard, or whatever the hell his name would be by then.

"If I weren't a selfish man, I'd tell you to go back to him now," Gannon told her, feeling her jump from being startled by his words.

"Gannon, you've never been a selfish man," she chided him, pulling his shirt over his head. "Your generous and loving nature has always been one of your greatest strengths...and at times your greatest weakness."

Gannon chuckled from the irony and truth of her statement. She was right. If he had not been so selfless, denying himself the woman he loved to make her happy, he would have fought harder for her. He would have taken her away from Vlad and married her way back then. They would have died of old age centuries ago like they should have. However, none of that mattered anymore. Things had come to this, and this was what they had become. At least he had been able to be with her for a while. A few hundred years was a lot more than most people could hope for. If they were still humans, the best they could have had would have been a few decades together - if that would have been possible.

"Do you still love me?" he asked, releasing her when her body stiffened in his arms.

"Yes," she answered, raising her arms for him to slid her shirt upwards and off of her body. "I will love you until the end...and even after."

"I believed you until you added the last three words," he whispered, holding her face with one hand framed around her chin to keep her from looking away. "We both know what is going to happen. Be honest with me, but most of all, be honest with yourself."

A sparkling diamond of a tear formed in the corner of her eye. He smiled down at her through his own sadness. Today had been an extremely emotional day for them both. Apparently it was not going to end any time soon. He sat up, pulling her into his arms to hold her to him.

"Don't cry. It's okay. I don't expect you to hold onto me forever when dead and gone. All I ask is that you love me while I'm still with you," he whispered, his lips drifting across her cheek. "Listen closely, Willie. Forget the past. Don't think about the future. Think about me and us and what's happening right this second. I'm going to kiss you and take you as my wife. We're going to act like whatever has happened in the past hasn't. This is our moment to be together as if everything has always been perfect in our world. There's no death, no end, no sorrow, no pain. Do you understand?"

Willie nodded without uttering a word. She closed her eyes as he lowered his mouth to hers. The pressure of his lips remained light, gentle, and undemanding. She held her breath as his tongue teasingly touched her lower lip then withdrew despite her parting her lips to invite him in. Her body flooded with the heat of arousal when his hands slid down her sides, pushing her skirt over her hips which she lifted to accommodate his undressing her. The friction of the material sliding across her skin created a ticklish sensation that caused goosebumps to rise across her belly and thighs. She gasped as his powerful fingers, slightly roughened and calloused from physical labor, brushed over her belly on their way to touch her breasts. She moaned into his mouth as he squeezed and fondled her breasts, stroking her nipples. She pulled her lips from his, releasing a low cry of pleasure as he teased her nipples into hard, almost painful, points of stimulated flesh. Her hands moved to his belt, the jingle of the metal exciting her as she worked to free him. Her hands glided over his chest and belly as he removed his pants to be naked.

Gannon lay back, pulling her on top of him. For a brief moment, her eyes held his that had lightened to a silvery gray that shone through the darkness. He assisted her by positioning himself under her as she straddled his hips.

"Please, make love to me," he begged her, stretching out his hand to cup her cheek. His hand slid from her face and down her neck to rest against her heart. "Always hold me here, and you will never be without me. I love you. You're my everything. Thank you for allowing me to love you and for loving me in return."

Willie closed her eyes in an effort to stop the tears. Instead, they broke forth, streaking down her face as she lowered herself to take her husband inside her body. She pressed her hand over his, holding it to her chest as she fulfilled his request. She made love to him, savoring each pleasurable sensation, committing each sigh of ecstasy he emitted to memory. Her heart ached as her own pleasure soared with each thrust. They were both suffering emotionally which heightened their physical bliss making the moment all the more agonizingly beautiful.

Gannon sat up, putting his arms around her to hold her body to his as they both teetered on the edge of orgasm. His arms locked around her body, and he nestled his head against her chest. He held her as they fell into the chasm of ecstasy together. They launched off the precipice of pleasure into that fantastic place between heaven and hell, hovering between earth and sky, where no one existed but them and nothing mattered but the overwhelming bliss coursing through their bodies. Stinging, bitter tears of a fate they could not alter mixed together with their sweat to baptize them both as a result of their emotional agony and physical ecstasy.

"Even when you're with him, when he breaks your heart or he leaves you feeling lonely, remember how I loved you," Gannon panted, pressing his sweaty forehead to her chest between her breasts. He did not want her to see the tears streaming down his face. "Please allow me to help you that much since I won't be there to save you from the pain."

"Oh, Gannon," she sniffed, running her fingers through his lengthy white hair. She laughed, a short, sharp sound harboring no real mirth, only the harsh acidic sound of heartbreak. "That was an incredibly selfish thing to say. It's something like he would say."

Neither one of them could bring themselves to speak the name of Vlad or to his new moniker, Alucard. They did not want to think of _him _in certain, undeniable terms at this time. Skirting his existence by using the vague pronoun enabled them to deal with the harshness of things to come. Things neither one of them could change.

Willie embraced her husband as they both cried silent tears. She had the awful feeling that they had just said farewell without actually speaking the word.


	21. Chapter 21

Willie held her husband's head in her lap, gently stroking his wrinkled cheek in an effort to comfort him. Truth be told, she was doing it more to comfort herself. He was dying. The time had come. Her eyes endured the familiar and harsh sting of bitter tears. His centuries to live had dwindled to mere minutes. It would not be much longer.

For months Willie had watched Gannon's steady decline in health as he trudged toward an inevitable death. The signs were subtle at first. He grew tired easily during physical labor forcing him to take frequent breaks. Occasionally, during those breaks he would fall asleep taking a much needed nap to regain his vitality. Rest periods and naps were something he had never partaken in before in his life. Along with the tiredness came aches and soreness; the typical discomforts a normal human sustained in the aging process. The evidence of his waning life became obvious when he could no longer see to his patrol duties to protect the gypsies. His body could not withstand the hours of walking. His inflamed joints and brittle bones would not allow him to wield a weapon with enough strength to protect himself much less the whole group from danger. Sensing the weakness of his body and knowing the strength of his pride not to admit that weakness, Willie would give her husband a sleeping tonic and take over his patrol duties for him. The secret was kept safely between her and her sons since they were one's who patrolled with her. Besides, being the Alpha female and Gannon's mate, it naturally fell to her to uphold his command and protect the pack.

However, at this time, everyone was aware their leader was dying. Gannon had been bedridden for nearly a month. He could not leave yet. There was an extraordinary event coming to pass that he could not miss. His first grandchild would soon be born. The joyous anticipation of the birth of the baby was the only thing that tempered the sadness of the family. The family was able to rationalize the emotional pain of Gannon's impending death by convincing themselves that it was right and good that as one life was ending another was beginning.

Willie had experienced other times in her life when overwhelming sadness and blissful happiness had coexisted. Never before had it been so crushing, threatening to destroy her sanity and physical well-being. She had no idea how she would go on living without her husband. Selfishly, she wanted to die with him. Death was not an option for two reasons: her immortality would not allow her and more importantly the love for her children would keep her tied firmly to this world as long as they were in it. She would gladly live on for her children and the new life they were being given - her grandchild who was about to be born. It had devastated her when Vlad betrayed her, cheated on her and abandoned her. Even that emotional disaster paled in comparison to this pain. After all, Gannon was the one who was there for her and saved her from that catastrophic trauma. Her children would be her saviors now. Thankfully her husband had given her so many beautiful reasons to live.

"Willie," Gannon said, clutching her hand that had been tracing the furrows across his forehead.

"What is it? Are you in pain? Do you need water? Tell me how I can help you," she gushed anxiously, looking down at him in an attempt to surmise what he might need. His skin had taken on the grayish pallor of death. Death was so close she could almost feel it standing next to her as if it were a corporeal being. Considering she was something supernatural herself, perhaps she really could feel it. She was actually dead after all. Yet her husband had been able to make her forget that, breathing life into her on a daily basis.

"Sweetheart, calm down," he murmured, his voice soft and weak.

_He sounds tired. So tired,_ she thought to herself, running her fingers through his snowy white hair.

"I think you should go to Addie. The baby will be born soon. Don't you want to be there?" he asked, then chuckled lightly. He reached up to touch her cheek, opening his eyes to look at her. "Of course you want to be there. But you won't leave me. Will you?"

Their daughter was in the throes of labor at this very moment. Their grandchild would make his or her debut into this terrible and wonderful world at any minute. The gypsies had a belief about transference of souls. They believed that people who died gave up their souls so that a baby could live. Furthermore, they believed that if it was a family member of the child who died, that person's soul would enter the baby allowing themselves to live on with those they love.

Willie selfishly prayed that particular type of transference of souls would take place tonight. Forcing a smile to her lips since her husband was lovingly gazing at her, she smiled despite the tears filling her eyes and the grief flooding her heart. The color of his gorgeous wolf eyes had never dulled. They had become lighter, almost colorless, a silvery white like mercury. She lay her hand over his that cupped her cheek pressing it firmly to her skin. _I'll miss you so much, _she thought to herself, swallowing the tears and the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Addie's fine. She has Felix and her sisters. The midwife is there as well. She's the same one who delivered Addie. Our daughter is in good hands," she assured him, leaning down to plant an affectionate kiss in the middle of his forehead.

"But she needs her mother," he protested. Honestly, he did not want her to leave him. He wanted his last moments on earth to be with her. But he knew she should be with their daughter. He desperately wished he could be with their daughter.

"MOM!" Addie screamed from the tent that was located only a few yards from their wagon.

"Mom!" Zev exclaimed at the same time he flung open the door to the wagon. "It's time! Come on!"

"Gannon," Willie whimpered, agonizing as her heart was torn to bits by wanting to be in two places at once.

"Willie, go. I'll wait for you to come back. I promise," he swore, allowing his hand to fall from her cheek.

Willie carefully picked up his head, moving it from her lap to the pillow laying next to her knee. She pressed a kiss to his lips before standing up to leave. "You better wait for me. Don't you dare go anywhere yet."

"He's coming with us," Connor announced, taking his mother's hand to assist her with getting down the steps to the ground. He and Rafe entered the wagon to pick up their father. They wanted their father to see his first grandchild.

"MOM! I NEED YOU!" Addie caterwauled.

Willie rushed into the tent, dropping onto her knees beside her daughter who was at the last stage of giving birth. Bevin held Addie's head mopping her sister's sweaty brow and red cheeks with a cloth dipped in cool water. Feya held Addie's hand offering encouraging words and prompting her to push when the midwife said she could see the baby's head. Willie glanced around for her son-in-law finding him sitting in the corner looking pale and on the verge of fainting. A lot of the men could not handle it very well seeing their wives in such a horrible state. They found it difficult to cope with the helplessness of being able to do nothing to relieve their most cherished love one's misery.

Willie had been one of the lucky few whose husband stayed right beside her through the pain. But then again, he always had been there when she needed him the most, in her worst most pain filled times. He had been the one who held her when she was on the verge of dying after being run through. He was there in the forest to save her life a second time when the villagers attempted to burn her to death. He had cured her broken heart and filled her life with more love and joy than she could have ever imagined.

"Mama, Mama," Addie sobbed sounding just like the little girl who would call for her when she fell down and scraped her knee.

"I know baby. It will be over soon. This is the worst part. Your child will soon be here," she assured her, peeling away the sweaty hair stuck to Addie's cheeks.

"Why in the hell did you do this six times?" her daughter questioned her through gritted teeth.

"I'm glad she did!" Zev, the sixth child, exclaimed. He was standing at the opening of the tent, holding back the flap for his brothers to bring their father inside.

"Daddy!" Addie gasped happily, momentarily forgetting her pain. The respite did not last long as another strong contraction gripped her. Her body was seized with the urge to push. The baby was ready to meet the family.

"All right, Adelaide! Just a few big pushes and your baby will be here," the midwife informed her.

"Come on, girl! You can do it!" Gannon encouraged his daughter, managing to sit up beside his wife. He was forced to lean against Willie to hold himself up, but he doubted she minded. She had told him months ago that it was about time he leaned on her. He had always been her support and rock, the one she could count on - for once she wanted to be that for him. Now she truly was supporting him.

"Almost there! That's it!" the midwife exclaimed.

Bevin helped her sister with raising her head while Feya pulled on her arms to aid her with pushing forward. Addie grunted with the exertion. The grunt steadily grew into a growl that rose into a howl.

"He's here!" the midwife yelled, raising the baby from between his mother's legs.

"A boy! Gannon, it's a boy!" Willie cried, putting her arm around her husband who unexpectedly became a lot heavier.

"My grandson," he whispered, staring at the child in wonder.

"He's not crying. Why isn't he crying?" Addie asked, burgeoning panic evident in her voice.

The midwife started to clean the child with a cloth, vigorously rubbing his little body to stimulate circulation. Using two fingers, she pressed on his chest over his heart with light pressure before continuing to massage him in an effort to rouse him. Tension and low level hysteria settled into the tent like an unwelcome guest. Silence filled the air like a deafening scream.

"I have to leave, Willie. I must go so this child can live," Gannon whispered lowly so only she could hear him.

Willie put her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly against her. His breathing was labored and shallow. She pressed her forehead against his, willing herself to say her next words. The tears that overflowed her eyelids made her voice thick displaying her emotions. "I love you, Gannon. Thank you for loving me and giving me six precious gifts. And we just received another. Good-bye, my darling."

"It's never good-bye. I'll always be with you. I have loved you in this world. I will continue to love you in the next. I will love you...always," he mumbled, his voice fading into one last long breath.

Willie gasped as his life force, what she believed to be his soul, exited his body and passed into her. Her body was filled with warmth. An inexplicable peace enveloped her as if she had been wrapped in a blanket, cozy and comforting. Although he was dead in her arms, she could feel him embracing her as if his arms were actually around her body. The warm sensation subsided, gradually exiting her body. She was left with a lingering tingle as if her whole body had been electrified. The peace remained. He had been one with her for just a moment. But there was someone else who needed him more.

"Gannon," she whispered.

A high pitched wail broke the silence like a sledgehammer shattering glass. As soon as the baby started to cry, announcing to them that he was here and alive, everyone inside the tent released an audible sigh.

"Mom? Mama," Addie called, reaching out for her mother's hand. "I want you to hold the baby first."

Connor and Rafe carefully removed their father's body from their mother's embrace. They did not bother trying to hide their tears. They were all shedding tears of completely diverse emotions; the elation of the arrival of a new life and the mourning of a life newly ended. Neither emotion surpassed the other but the joy made the grief more manageable.

Willie took the precious newborn wrapped in the quilt his mother had made for him during the months of awaiting his birth. Addie had used squares of cloth cut from her own baby blanket, her mother's favorite dress, her wedding dress, and other sentimental items. Willie counted ten tiny fingers and ten itsy bitsy toes. He already had a head full of fuzzy reddish brown hair. His eyes were closed so she would have to see their color later. But he was gorgeous. Round and pink and absolutely perfect. She kissed his silky smooth chubby cheeks and cuddled the warm little bundle to her chest. All she could do was cry silently as she stared at the baby in her arms. She wanted to see this child live and grow.

"Mama," Addie murmured, touching her mother's arm.

"He's beautiful, darling. The most beautiful baby I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot of beautiful babies," she laughed lightly, glancing around at her children who surrounded her. She extended her hand to her daughter, wiping away the tears that ran down her cheeks. "Don't cry. He got to see his first grandson before leaving us."

"I want- " Addie's words were stolen by a hiccuping sob. "I want to name him Gannon. Do you mind, Mom?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. Your father would be honored. He would love that. And so would I," Willie assured her, kissing the baby's forehead. "Welcome to the world, Gannon. I love you so much."

~...~

Alucard dropped to his knees feeling as if a heavy weight had landed on him. His fingers clawed at his chest wanting to rid himself of whatever was keeping him from breathing. Sadness, heart rending grief, held him in its powerful grip preventing him from drawing in his next breath. He dropped forward to his hands as he began to sob. Had he ever cried in his life? He had no idea. Tears, hot and salty, ran down his cheeks and seared his skin. What was this awful feeling?

Moments before he had been pacing his room, feeling anxious and unsettled. Then out of nowhere it was like something attacked him, trying to force the life out of him. Anguish and sorrow so overpowering had driven him to his knees. As he struggled to breathe, the fear began to grow inside of him that he might die. The most disturbing part was that not only did he feel like he would die, but the face he _wanted _to die. He had not felt this way in a very long time.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he wheezed, lowering his head to the floor. The torment that wracked his body prevented him from feeling the carpet burns he was was incurring on his forehead as he writhed in pain. His long fingernails scratched at his constricted chest until he ripped apart his skin and soaked his flawless white shirt with his crimson blood.

The muted sounds of a woman sobbing reached him as if they were being carried across a long distance, across time itself, to reach him. Her wailing grew louder until he thought the sound would deafen him. Alucard could feel her grief which was made even more profound by hearing her cry. A picture of a woman began to form in his mind and immediately he knew it was Willie. He was accustomed to seeing her like a fuzzy afterimage, a specter in his mind that he could not quite place. But now he knew her. He recalled every contour of her face, her cherry blossom pink lips, her eyes of gold and green, and her skin as white as a peace lily. She was standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The strong winds whipped her reddish brown curls around her face wildly, obscuring her beauty from him. Even when crying, lost in mourning, she was gorgeous to him despite her red puffy face and swollen, bloodshot eyes. Then she threw back her head while simultaneously dropping onto all fours. The sorrowful howl she released filled his head making it feel as if his brain would explode. Although it would not help shut out the noise, Alucard covered his ears and opened his mouth to howl along with her. He was sharing her pain, experiencing her grief. It hurt. It hurt a lot more than he had ever expected it would. He was sure she was going to kill him by inflicting her own sadness upon him. Not once did he consider what it must be like to be her, what she must be enduring firsthand if her anguish was affecting him this badly.

Alucard struggled to stand to his feet under the crushing weight of sharing her emotional burden. He had to go to her. She needed him. He wanted to stop her pain.


	22. Chapter 22

When Alucard found Willie she was sitting beside the remnants of a funeral pyre. The few remaining pieces of blackened, charred wood still sent up tendrils of smoke that swiftly disappeared into the wind. Her face and hair was covered with greasy black soot and powdery gray ash - possibly the ashes of her dead husband. Tears had created streaks through the grime making winding white lines down her face. He did not know If she knew he was near her because she did not acknowledge his presence. Neither one of them spoke a word to the other. He patiently and silently stood close by out of her direct line of sight. He was near enough to hear her breathing but not close enough to touch her. She was officially in mourning, taking the time to formally immerse herself in her grief and nurse her broken heart without shame. Only the occasional muted sob or deep inhalation from her interrupted the whine of the fierce wind that whirled around them.

Willie got into a position on all fours before kowtowing to the burnt remains of what was once the funeral fire for her husband. She bent low, pressing her forehead to the edge of the circle that had been seared into the earth by the fire. Upon sitting up in a kneeling position, she placed her palms together as if she was in prayer. Knowing that she was eternally separated from God had never prevented her from praying. After offering a prayer for her husband, her children, and her grandchild, she lowered her hands and opened her eyes. Then she turned her head toward the man in the crimson coat who had been standing beside her while she completed her mourning ritual.

"Will you help me up, please?" she requested, elegantly extending one of her hands to him. It did not matter that her hand bore splotches of soot from where she had wiped at her teary eyes. She was a complete wreck, dirty and disheveled, yet she had the poise of a genteel lady.

Alucard took the one step necessary to be within reach of her. Without hesitation, he enclosed her small smudged hand in his that was encased in a clean white glove. The least of his worries was getting a little soot on his clothing. The only thing that gave him pause was the risk of accidentally getting the ashes of her husband on him, but at the moment he was more concerned about her physical well being. He easily lifted her to a standing position. The trembling of her body vibrated up his arm and into his chest until his entire body quivered. He felt her weaken, her body drooping. Before she could drop all the way to the ground, he lunged forward to catch her in his arms. He held her body against his, one arm firmly looped around her shoulders, the other around her waist. Upon feeling her head lean against his shoulder, he lifted his hand from her shoulder to cradle the back of it.

"Take me to the ocean. I must cleanse myself. I'm sorry that you have to touch me while I'm in such a sorry state," she murmured, her voice low and breathy.

"Don't apologize for such trivial matters. I am here for you. I want to take care of you," he explained, lifting her into his arms in a bridal carry. The memory of the day he lifted her into his arms to carry her across the threshold of their little cabin in the woods came back to him. His heart ached just a little more than it was already hurting. He had not fully recovered from the ordeal of experiencing her profound sadness. If only he had stayed with her that one terrible night, he was confident they would still be living in their romantic hideaway, safe and happy. Regret, sharp like a knife, sliced his heart in two. If only...

Willie clutched the lapel of his jacket as he carried her to the edge of the cliff. They were about to take the fastest route to the beach below. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the drop, her fingers grabbing a fistful of the wool material of his duster coat to hang on tightly. Her stomach somersaulted wildly as they fell after he stepped off the edge of the rocky precipice. For a brief moment she felt disconnected from her body like she was floating on air. It was the familiar sensation of flying. The sudden stop at the bottom was not as jarring as she had expected it to be. She kept her grip on his clothing as he dipped low, bending his knees deeply to absorb the major part of the impact before dispersing it through his body.

"Why did you come?" she asked, feeling the damp sand under her feet when he set her down. She had not been wearing shoes. As a matter of fact, she did not even remember getting dressed this morning. How many days had passed since she began her mourning rite? Her husband was dead. His body had been burned and scattered upon the wind, returned to the earth from whence it had come. It was done.

Alucard pressed his palms to her cheeks, turning up her face so that he could look into her eyes. They were dim, unfocused, their inner light gone. If her face wasn't so filthy he would have kissed her, but he dared not touch her too much lest he be defiled by the remains of her recently deceased beloved. He sighed. He had been her beloved once. Her beginning and her end. Her everything. Then he had become nothing at all by no one's fault but his own. He received another stab of remorse right through his already tortured heart.

"You need me. So I'm here," he said, removing his hands from her face when she grinned at him. The smile was cold, cruel; full of anger and hate. He deserved her loathing and much, much more.

"Well, that would be a first, now wouldn't it?" she questioned him cutting him deeper with her razor sharp words of truth. She turned her back to him to begin undressing. Her time of mourning had come to an end. That did not mean she would never be plagued with sadness or shed tears of sorrow for her husband. It simply meant that the time had come for her to get on with her life just like he would want her to do. As Gannon had taught her, time was the ultimate healer, and she could not cry forever. Hearts healed, but they did not always heal fast.

"Let me help you," Alucard offered after watching her struggle to free herself from the shirt that wanted to twist in the wind and stubbornly cling to her body. He picked up the hem of her loose peasant blouse, sliding his hands underneath. Rather than touching her body, he skimmed his hands close to her without ever contacting her skin as he pushed the shirt upward to pull it over her head and off of her arms. Long ago, she had undressed him this way on an almost daily basis. Like a selfish pervert, he had reveled in the feeling of her hands accidentally touching his skin as she had fought to remove his clothing. Her face would blush violently, darkening to a deep red when he would laugh at her. He had recalled many things about his past with her in the time they had been separated. His memories became the only thing he had left of her.

There was no longer a foundation for their relationship. Everything they had built was gone. Time and circumstances, changing attitudes and emotions had destroyed it. Alucard had been fooling himself to think they could pick up where they had left off and continue their relationship like nothing had happened. They would be starting over. Seeing her today was almost like meeting a stranger for the first time. Worse yet, it smacked of the awkwardness of seeing an acquaintance again after making a horrible first impression. All of that aside, he had expected her to come running back into his arms, grateful for his return to her. The powerful psychological and physical bond remained; the tie between an original vampire and his blood born mate. It was that bond that had brought him here to her. Yet the emotional ties, the fetters forged from love, had been severed. Alucard could not blame her for treating him with cool indifference. He was not the man he used to be; the man she had known and loved. He was no longer the vampire she had known and called husband either. His delusions could only go so far in deceiving himself.

Willie was not the same either. Her appearance had not changed after all these centuries. The same on the outside but definitely not on the inside. She had become stronger, more independent. Gannon had loved her enough to enable her to grow as a person, becoming confident in his love and in herself. That was something he, more specifically Vlad, had never done for her. He had needed her to need him. It had never been enough for him for her to want to be with him. His obsession, his own selfish desires, had dictated that she should rely solely on him to be her source of life. She needed him now, and it thrilled him. However, he had been disappointed to find a woman in complete control of herself despite being in her worst hour of despair. She had not rushed into his arms begging him to dry her tears and take care of her until she could stand on her own. Instead, she had asked for his assistance with tranquility and restraint. She politely demanded his help without reducing herself to begging for it.

Alucard lowered his hands to the button on the back of her skirt to assist her further with disrobing. He jerked his hands away when she shoved them aside.

"I can take it from here. Thank you," she responded with forced civility. Her shaking fingers pushed the button through the hole after fumbling quite a few times. Before sliding the skirt down her legs, she paused, looking over her shoulder at him without turning around since she was naked from the waist up. "Do you mind going over there to stand? On the other side of those rocks?"

Alucard glanced at the small outcropping of rocks that extended from the bottom of the cliff out to the ocean. His view of her would be blocked from there. But of course that was the purpose behind her request. The best way to help her at this moment was to comply with her courteous request to maintain her modesty. She had been another man's wife for several centuries. It would not be gentlemanly of him to brazenly look upon her naked body. She no longer belonged to him and had not for a very long time. He nodded in agreement, willing to acquiesce to her request. He needed to win her heart all over again. Therefore, that left him in no position to make demands - particularly salacious ones. His boots sank into the wet sand making squishing noises as he walked toward the row of rocks. Behind him he could hear her splashing into the ocean.

Willie sank below the surface of the water, allowing the undertow to drag her far from the shore. Her body felt light and buoyant under the water, suspended in an alternate place that helped her separate herself from her pain. Even though it was a momentary respite, she needed it desperately. For a few minutes, she did not feel sad or happy or angry - or any other emotion. The ocean rocked her body to and fro. This must be what it was like for an infant encased comfortably and safely in their mother's womb. They were separated and protected from anything that could hurt them. Unfortunately, her lungs were beginning to protest. The burning in her chest signaled that she needed air. Above the surface of the comforting ocean awaited brutish, chilling winds, the reality of her present, and a remnant of her past. She burst through the top of the water, sucking in a noisy breath of air. Treading water, she bobbed like a cork while scanning the beach to find her visitor. She would not exactly call him unwelcome. Just unexpected. Her heart had cried out on its own to him in her latest and greatest moment of need. Shockingly, he had answered that call.

Willie finally saw him standing by the rocks like she had asked him to do. She could clearly see the back of his head instead of his eyes shielded by the round lensed sunglasses he wore. A smile perked up the corners of her mouth that had been set in a deep frown for several days. He truly was not the man he used to be. Vlad would have been shamelessly but covertly leering at her from behind those rocks. This would be another first for him.

Willie cleaned her body, washing away any remaining ash and dirt that clung to her skin. She floated around a bit longer partly because it felt great and freeing; mostly because she was in no big hurry to leave the soothing water to have to face the vampire standing on the beach. What did he want from her? What could he expect her to do for him at this time? She swam until she found footing on the shifting sand at the bottom. Clumsily, she made her way back to the beach. Thankfully she did not have an audience for her less than graceful emergence from the ocean. She dropped to her knees, panting for air. Her muscles were sore from the effort it had taken to break free from the powerful ocean current that kept dragging her back in. For days she had barely moved from the spot beside where the funeral rites had commenced. It would not take long for her body to repair itself though. If only the emotional bruises would dissipate so quickly.

Willie gasped when the toes of his black leather boots appeared under her nose. She sat back on her heels in a kneeling position to look up at him. It was no surprise to her to see him looking at her with a slight, knowing smile on his face. At least he had held out for a little while before reverting to his old perverted ways.

"Here," he said, taking off his jacket to drape it around her shoulders to cover her body.

Willie slipped her arms into the silk lined sleeves of the jacket to hold it securely around her while warming up her body. She quickly stood to her feet before the next wave could drench the jacket which she had to hold up anyway to keep it out of the water that surrounded her ankles.

"What do you want, Alucard?" she asked, walking away from the ocean to where the splendidly green grass grew next to the sand.

"Nothing. I'm here because you wanted me here," he reminded her. It was her afflicted heart that had called to him, leading him to her.

"Did I?" she inquired, staring at him with an apathetic gaze. Her expression showed neither malice nor delight for his presence. "I suppose the heart wants what it wants. Even if it's something we logically know is harmful to our very soul."

Alucard hoped she was speaking about the past and not the present. He never regretted his choice of becoming a vampire and of making her one, even in this moment. Apparently, she did. However, there was nothing he could do about her regrets.

"No matter how much you wish for it, the bond between us cannot be broken. You are mine and I am yours. That is the way it has always been. That is the way it will always be," he stated in a rather imperious tone as if he were issuing a royal decree.

"Are you listening to yourself?" she demanded, rage erupting in her eyes with the ferocity of a volcano. "You are no longer the Prince of Wallachia. You are not my liege and my commander. You are not..." Her voice faltered, halting with a squeak of heightened emotions. "You are not my husband."

"I am aware of that fact. And I am sorry," he said, reaching out for her. He pulled her into his chest for a bone crushing hug. "I am more sorry about allowing you to get away from me than you will ever know."

Willie believed he meant it. Sadly, she did not have the emotional capacity to deal with him or any attempt to sway her back into his arms or to weasel his way back into her heart.

"Thank you, Alucard." She pulled his mouth down to hers for a brief, friendly kiss of gratitude. She appreciated the thoughtfulness he had showed by coming to her so quickly. She knew that thinking of others did not come naturally to him. It had been a momentous achievement for him to stretch beyond himself to show sincere concern for her while inconveniencing himself. Furthermore, he had willingly come here not knowing how he would be received. For the most part, he had treated her kindly in an effort to ease her emotional distress. Yet in other ways he had deepened her injuries by reopening old wounds that she had no idea had not completely healed.

Alucard lowered his head in an attempt to receive another kiss. His lips touched her cheek that was offered to him instead when she turned her head. Too soon. It was too soon to expect such affection. He was pushing his limits like always. His arms tightened around her momentarily before releasing her.

"The time for us has not yet come," she informed him, removing his jacket to hand it to him. She would not keep it even if it meant standing in front of him bare as the day she was born.

"I know," he returned, folding the jacket over his arm. "I will continue to wait. When will I see you again?"

Willie held his gaze that harbored no expectations and no demands. She smiled. "I don't know. Fate has always found a way to draw us back together, time and time again. Whenever she allows our next meeting is when I will see you."

Alucard nodded in agreement. There was nothing left to say. Putting on his jacket that was damp with sea water and saturated with her scent, he tipped his hat to her while bowing at the waist like a Victorian gentleman from the era when they had last met. Rather than taking off in his literal bat out of hell fashion, he decided to walk away slowly. He would stay calm, take his time, stay in her sight as long as possible. If he was lucky, and most often he had a tendency to be extremely lucky, the image of him walking away would stay in her mind until she would be compelled seek him out. He had the whole of time to wait for her. But his patience was another matter entirely and would not last quite so long. Should it take too long, Fate might require a little push in the right direction.


	23. Chapter 23

_I need you. _The three words entered her mind as if they had been spoken into her ear. Alucard's voice resonated along the recesses of her mind. Not once in his narcissistic, self-centered existence had he ever told her that he needed her. Willie doubted she was actually hearing his voice at all. Besides, there could not be any real reason for him to need her except maybe to sate some lascivious carnal urge. She snuggled back down into her bed, wrapping the covers more securely around her body. The cold from the frigid Irish morning did not actually bother her, but she enjoyed resting her body in the bed after their lengthy journey from the northernmost edge of the country to the southern shore. The day after tomorrow they would leave by ship to go to the mainland of Europe, possibly Germany. There were many deserted castles in Germany. Perhaps she could find one and claim it as her own, using her title as Countess to take advantage of her nobility for the first time in her life.

"Willene, please," Alucard's deep voice implored her with a desperation she had never heard before. "I need you."

A sudden burning pain pierced her right shoulder and ran straight through her body as if hot lava had been poured into her and was burning its way through her tissues until it exited her back parallel to the entry point. Willie sat up in the bed, throwing back the covers and ripping away her nightgown. Her fingers moved across her unmarked skin. What was happening to her? She cried out when another mysterious explosion of pain occurred under her knee on her left leg. She massaged the leg that ached as if the bone had been shattered. What was happening to him?

"Help me!" Alucard begged. "I'm dying."

Willie stood to her feet, immediately pulling off her gown. She hastily dressed in pants and one of her many loose peasant shirts. After pulling on her boots, she raced out of the wagon. Everyone was still asleep since it was somewhere between night and morning, the darkest part before dawn. She did not feel the need to awaken anyone to tell them she was leaving. Her family had grown accustomed to her wandering away for hours or even days at a time. Sometimes she had this need to be alone, to think, to remember the past and contemplate her future. Those were the times when Alucard communicated with her, using the mind link between them to express his emotions and desires to her. Most often she ignored it, combatting his psychological trespassing by concentrating on memories of Gannon or her children and grandchild. Alucard was stupidly stubborn and relentless in his effort to connect with her, to draw her to him, and to make her his own once more. She had been down this road with him before and refused to take the same path to heartbreaking obsession.

Willie closed her eyes, launching herself into the air to transform and take flight as a colony of bats. She could get to him faster this way. Her body was drawn to his as if a magnet where pulling her to him. The part of him that refused to let her go, that would always be within her, beckoned her to him. It was like a chain of unbreakable links that tethered them together psychologically no matter how much distance separated them physically. The landscape under her changed from the blue of the ocean to the green of the land to a dreary mix of gray and black when she flew over cities. Eventually she found herself in fog laden London in the middle of nowhere. There was a church ahead of her that appeared to have been abandoned decades ago. Most of the stained glass windows were broken and missing. The tower that held the bell which heralded people into church was gone. There was an eerie quietness about the scene. The fog swirled around her feet as she walked toward the church. Otherwise the damp air remained heavy and undisturbed.

Willie cautiously opened the front door that still hung straight and secure on the hinges. The other door appeared as if it would fall off its rusty, broken hinges if touched. She cautiously tiptoed through the trash and broken glass littering the foyer. None of the candles were lit and had not been for a long time considering the layer of dust that coated each orange glass votive cup. Cobwebs drooped in the corners like unusual curtains made by nature. She stepped into the sanctuary, glancing around. It was empty. But this is where her heart had led her. Like a beacon he had drawn her here. She slowly made her way up the red carpeted aisle to the front.

All Catholic churches looked the same. There were minor decorating differences here and there but the basic architecture and interior design was always the same. This little church was very plain and understated. The stained glass windows had been the focal point here. The sanctuary had bare white walls and uncushioned benches. No creature comforts to pander to the fleshly senses of this nonexistent flock.

"Alucard? Are you here?" she called out doubting she would receive an answer. She waited, closing her eyes while she strained to hear any detectable sound.

"I'm here," a weak voice called out like a shout in the silence.

The vulnerability in his voice terrified her. Willie ran forward because it sounded like his voice had come from the platform. She did not see him until she walked behind the large wooden pulpit. Alucard was lying there covered in blood. His clothes were ripped to shreds. This was the first time she had seen him without the big floppy hat and his sunglasses. Spatters of blood dotted his face. His short hair was matted with blood and plastered to the right side of his head. His right arm was missing from the shoulder and his left leg had been cut off at the knee. There was a gaping hole in his abdomen filled with a disgusting red pudding that used to be his skin, muscles, and organs. She dropped to her knees beside him. Her hands shook as she examined his wounds. She was unprepared for this. She had come for a battle not for healing.

"I'm not sure what they did to me, but I can't regenerate," he panted, staring at her while she continued her clinical investigation of his wounds.

"How long have you been like this?" she inquired, rolling his body over gently to check his back. He was not in pain because his body had gone numb, but she treated him with the same tenderness she would any other ailing individual. At this point there was no telling how many souls he had lost in his body's many attempts to heal itself which resulted in him dying instead.

"An hour...a day...a week...I don't know," he replied, sucking in air as if it was his last. His body stiffened, and he ceased speaking as he died again, relinquishing another soul.

Willie continued to look him over to fully assess the extensive damage. They needed to get out of here. They needed to be some place with access to water and towels so she could clean the wounds. It would help if by some miracle there was an area nearby, a forest, a farm, some place where lots of vegetation grew, so she could find herbs for medicine. She jumped when he unexpectedly inhaled, pulling air into his recently dead lungs.

"We need to get you out of here? How far away is your home?" she asked, sliding her arms underneath him. She easily picked him up in a bridal carry to remove him from this place. Her inhuman strength had its definite advantages in certain situations.

"It's too far. There is a little shack not to far from here. It's near a stream in the woods. I hid out there a few days before coming here," he told her.

"Why did you come here?" She walked out of the church with him held in her arms. It was strange for him to be the damsel in distress.

"I was supposed to be killing a group of vampires. Instead it was a trap set by priests. A special militant group created to kill creatures like us. Iscariot," he spat as if the word were poison in his mouth.

"Iscariot? Like the apostle who betrayed Christ?"

"Exactly!"

How ironic! A secret organization within the church whose duty it was to kill fearsome supernatural threats all in the name of God. An organization named after one of the most notorious traitors in history.

"Tell me where to go Alucard. I need to take care of your injuries." She listened to his directions as she ran at top speed through the forest, dodging tree trunks and hopping over bulging roots that could trip her. At last they came to the shack that was attached to a grist mill complete with a water wheel that turned the grinding mechanism inside. Unfortunately she had no time to enjoy the picturesque beauty of the place.

Willie kicked open the door to carry Alucard inside. She lay him on the hard packed dirt floor. After his wounds were cleaned, she would lay him on the bed. It would not do for him to lay in a blood soaked bed once she had disinfected the injuries. There was a large cast iron pot hanging over the cold white ash in the fireplace. Damn. She would have to gather wood, haul water, boil it, then finally be able to remove the blood. Looking around, she searched for extra sheets that she could rip apart to use for cloths and bandages. There was only one set on the bed. She sighed. The top sheet would have to go and the blanket could be used to cover him. The issue of gathering herbs was a task she would rather not think about at the moment. It was going to be a long night.

By noon the next day, Willie had finally gotten rid of the blood and bandaged the wounds. Alucard was resting comfortably in the bed, sliding in and out of consciousness. When he was awake, she asked him questions about the incident. His limbs had been severed by swords. The injuries looked the same as those she had seen on the battlefield hundreds of years ago. The hole in his stomach had been created by bullets, hundreds of them, being fired out of a rapid fire weapon like an automatic machine gun. These wounds would have been lethal to a regular mortal. Yet his supernatural body should have healed itself without flaw. She had incurred injuries having her body parts destroyed by a hail of a bullets or detached completely by being ripped off or shorn off by bladed weapons. He was stronger than her, more powerful. Or he was supposed to be. She remembered him being more powerful than her. He had been like a god to her in his immortal state. He had thought of himself as being one too.

Willie sighed, mulling over in her mind what to do next. First, she needed to return to Ireland to tell her family that she would be gone for a few days. While there she would need to pack the medicines and remedies she would need until she could explore and find the herbs to make more. She would not tell her family where she was going, and she would certainly not tell with whom she would be. Besides, as much as she liked being the head of the family, the Gypsy Queen, she should turn over leadership to a real member, a true wolf, to lead the pack. The invisible crown should be passed to Felix and her daughter Addie. They were the Betas and should be promoted to Alpha. She needed to let go, to distance herself a little to allow her children to take their rightful place in the world of gypsies, a world she really should have never been a part of to begin with. Something cold and wet dripped from her chin and splashed onto her chest. She reached up to touch her cheek. There were tears on her fingers when she looked at them.

"Damn," she groused, snatching one of the few unused strips of cloth that remained. She dried her tears and walked outside to fetch water.

The air was warm on her skin and refreshing to her lungs after breathing in the stale air of the little house. The window was covered with a heavy curtain to block out the light. She was not taking any chances of further jeopardizing his ability to heal.

Willie knew she would have to seek out members of this Iscariot organization. There were questions only they could answer. These answers would enable her to undo what had been done to Alucard. Contacting these men would be a most perilous undertaking leaving her at risk to be mortally wounded like Alucard - or killed.

Willie sat down beside the stream, dipping the bucket into the clear, cold water. She brought a handful of the water to lips to drink it. There was nothing more pure and tasty than the water from the melted mountain snow. She bathed her face in the water to clarify her jumbled thoughts when her mind tried to conjure up memories that would only make her heart ache. She should return to Alucard to check on him.

"There you are," he said, when she entered the cabin. The relief showed on his face and in his voice. "I thought you had left me."

"I will be leaving you soon," she informed him, sitting the bucket on the small square table with one chair.

"Oh." He sounded horribly disappointed.

Willie filled the metal cup with water, taking it to him so he could drink. He had been asleep for a while and would be thirsty. She sat down on the side of the bed, assisting him to a sitting position.

"I'll return. I'm going to find out how to fix this. To solve this problem so you can heal," she explained, checking the bandages for blood. There was none. Thank goodness. She had changed them for the second time an hour ago. The bleeding should have stopped soon after the wounds had been incurred. She did not like this at all.

"What is happening to me?" he asked, taking another sip of water.

"I don't know. But I will help you," she returned, pressing her hand to his gaunt cheek. Never in her life had she seen him look bewildered or frightened. He was weak, frail, and helpless. He did not wear it well. "I will bring you what you need."

"You already have," he murmured, touching her hand that was lying on the bed. "All I need is you."

"What do you mean?" She pulled her hand from under his, standing up from the bed.

"I have missed you terribly," he stated, looking away from her. "I have been lonely without you. I am missing half of myself and that is you. I love you."

"I don't know what you expect me to say to you. It's not that easy." She stood up from the bed, moving to the door.

"It could be." He was acting like a spoiled child who was determined to get his way.

"It's not." She opened the door to leave. "You have to be patient. It took me years to love you the first time. I hated you...for everything you had done to me. It's like we're right back to where we began."

"You hate me?"

"You really shouldn't be surprised. You got your memories back, right? Think. Think about what you've done to ruin our relationship. Think about the road that led us here. More importantly, consider the things you should have done but did not."

"You are coming back to me?"

_Bastard. _Willie sighed in frustration and rolled her eyes but did not speak. He had always been that way. It was as if he never listened to a word that came out of her mouth. Despite his present pitiful condition, he still believed he could make demands and be condescending.

"Willene, I apologize. I cannot stop being the man I have always been," he said.

The sincerity in his voice made her turn to look at him. He appeared humbled, his eyes pleading with her to understand he had been a self-centered jerk for far too long to change his habits. She did understand. In his own weird way, he loved her with all of his heart, and he always had.

"I know you are who you are and that's who you always will be." For that same reason, a part of her heart would belong to him for eternity.

~...~

Willie arrived at the docks while her family was waiting to board the ship that was being loaded with their belongings. Her children surrounded her, each one hugging her in turn. She could tell they were all brimming with questions. The last ones to greet her were her son-in-law and grandchild.

"Mom, we were worried sick. Gannon cried all night long for you," Felix said, handing off the giggling toddler who had recently turned two.

"He looks incredibly unhappy," she retorted, kissing the beaming rosy cheeked child on the tip of his round nose.

"Mother, I need to talk to you," Connor announced, nodding to his sister Addie. He took his mother by the hand, leading her away from the rest of the family so they could talk privately.

"Where did you go?" Addie demanded, placing her fists on her hips.

Willie recognized that stance. It was an official mother pose; the one that warned the child in trouble 'I know something is going on here and you better not lie to me about it.' She covered her mouth with her hand and coughed to hide her smile. "A friend needed me."

"Was it _him_?" her daughter inquired, her face showing her annoyance when she emphasized the word him.

"Him, who, darling?" Willie asked, despite knowing who him was.

"Mother!" she shrieked in annoyance.

"Addie," Connor stated in the low but forceful tone his father had used to instantly diffuse an angry woman - mostly his mother. "Mom, if you went to see Alucard, we understand. The two of you have a past together. But don't just take off without telling us something. You scared the hell out of us."

"It's not what you're thinking. He was hurt, badly wounded, and he can't heal himself. If I don't do something," she paused, inhaling a shaky breath before continuing,"he could die."

"But isn't he immortal like you? You can't die," her daughter scoffed.

"Addie, we can die, honey. I've explained this to you. Yes, we are immortal but there are certain things that can happens to us, if the souls within us are destroyed and used up by resurrecting us, we can in fact die a regular mortal death. A death like all of you will experience someday," she added, her voice soft and heartbroken. "All of you will die and leave me alone. Have you thought about that?"

"Mother, I'm sorry," Addie apologized. She had thought about it, and it hurt her every time she did. She could not imagine how difficult it was going to be for her mother to lose them. She had watched her mother mourn for her father, and the sorrow in action had been a distressing event to witness. Her mother had a connection with this other man that she had purposely rejected and absolutely refused to try to understand. But he was like their mother, a vampire, one who would live on far longer than any of them. At least with him her mother would not be alone. They were two of a kind, a pair, and meant to be together.

"I need to return to him with medicine and to find out how to help him. I need to know what happened so they won't be able to do it to anyone else. Be wary of priests. We can no longer trust the church for sanctuary, to shelter us from those who seek to kill us. They have entered the ranks of men who want to destroy everything they do not understand and everything they fear," she warned her children. Her stern gaze turned to her daughter. "Addie, you and Felix will lead the pack now."

"No. It should be Connor. He is the Alpha male and the strongest. The leadership should fall to him," Addie said with determination, glimpsing at her brother.

"Do you accept this?" Willie asked her son who was looking toward the docks at all of the people who would be under his care.

Strong and brave, a fierce warrior and steadfast soldier, Connor had always been by his father's side protecting the pack. However, he had never been part of the decision making process, and he had liked it that way. He had never had to bear one hundred percent of the responsibility. Things had changed though. He was ready to step up and take charge. His brother-in-law had his sister and nephew to take care of which would be more than enough for him. It was time for him to become the man his father expected him to be and had raised him to be.

"I do," Connor replied resolutely.

"Then it's settled. I have faith in you, son. I always knew you would do the right thing when the time came." Willie put her arms around his waist to give him a hug. "Your father would be so proud."

"Thanks, Mom. I needed to hear that," he responded, embracing her tightly.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go." Time was of the essence, and it was slipping away from her. "I will come to find you soon. Where are you going?"

"Germany. Bavaria specifically." He smiled, hugging his mother again tightly. "I'm going to find a castle like the one you always talked about. A hidden fortress where we can live in safety and happiness."

"Good. That will be great," she sniffed, holding back the tears that filled her eyes. "I must get to the wagon to get some supplies before its taken to the ship. I'll say good-bye to everyone before I leave."

"Will you be gone long?" Addie asked, not trying to hide her tears when she hugged her mother.

"I can't stay away from any of you for very long. I'll miss my babies too much."

"Aw, Mom," her daughter muttered irritably but with a smile on her face showing that she really did not mind. Her mother had always told her that she would still be her baby even when she was grown and had children of her own.

"I'll come see you soon after you get settled in," she promised.

"I'll hold you to that. If you don't come see us, I'll come find you," Connor returned good-naturedly but meant it sincerely. If he did not hear from her after a certain amount of time, he would come looking for her to make sure she was all right. He still did not trust this mysterious Alucard who was a leftover from his parent's past. The greater part of his mistrust sprang from the fact that his mother did not seem to completely trust this man.

"Connor, if something happens to me -"

"I'll find Alucard."

Regardless of whether he was the culprit or completely uninvolved, should some tragedy befall Willie, that man would have information about what happened.

~...~

Willie had just completed changing the dressing on his wounds when Alucard awakened.

"You did come back," he mumbled, his voice dry and raspy.

"Some people keep their promises," she returned in a gentle tone that directly contrasted with her caustic words. She figured the underlying meaning of the words would be lost on him anyway. He had never been one for understanding the complex nuances of a woman's speech. His wife had insulted her and demeaned her right in front of him for years, and he never caught the deeper meaning of those hateful phrases.

Willie stood up from the bed to retrieve the tea she had been brewing. She tried to list the reasons why she had loved him with every fiber of her being. She needed to remind herself why she was here with him so she would stay. While she stirred the fragrant, sweet smelling mixture containing flowers and roots that would ease his pain and combat infection, her mind started to wander in an attempt to find as answer as to why this was happening to him. He would be battling these injuries like a normal human. It was almost as if whatever had been done to him had turned him into a common mortal again. Had they conducted some sort of prayer or ritual to strip away his vampire nature leaving a mere human behind? There was so much she needed to know, but who to ask was an even bigger and far scarier question.

Willie poured the tea into a cup, a porcelain tea cup rimmed in gold. It reminded her of the time long ago when she served him as his lovesick handmaiden in his castle in Wallachia. Although she knew it had been silly, she had included a few luxury items when packing. Her porcelain tea cups, a few silk scarves, her red wool cape, and the quilt her daughter had made for her were a few of the setimental, superfluous items she had brought along.

Alucard was sitting up in the bed with his back against the wall of river stones that had been fitted together to form the structure. He was staring at the fire across the room, the flames reflecting in his eyes that had always appeared to made of the darkness itself. The blanket was draped across his body diagonally, hiding the terrible reality that he was missing an arm and concealing the stump of what remained of his leg. He looked normal; as normal as he could to her since he was still a veritable stranger. His body was thin but full of taut smooth muscle. He was like an emaciated, starved version of the Vlad she had known. His short black hair was tousled and shaggy, curling up at the ends where it stopped at the nape of his neck. Vlad's hair had always been long, usually half way down his back. Sometimes it would grow to his waist before she could cut it for him.

Willie did not realize she was shaking until she heard the light clank of the cup rattling against the saucer. For the first time, she could see the man she had once loved. The sensations she had felt; the palpitating heart, the rush of heat that enveloped her from head to toe, her wildly quivering tummy, had come back to her with upsetting clarity and ferocity. Those feelings reminded her why she had come here. After all this time, after experiencing a one in a lifetime love with Gannon, she still loved him.

Maurus had once told her that love was an incredible, changeable thing. He had explained to her that one could fall in love many times over a lifetime, that each experience would be different and unique. He had also cautioned her that not all love was good or beneficial. Sometimes it could be destructive and hurtful. The love she had with Gannon had definitely been the good kind. It was the type of love that always sought to take care of the other person's needs before one's own, seeking to make them happy and therefore making oneself happy. Both people were givers and gave more than they took from the other. She swallowed convulsively as she stared at the man in the bed who was a shadow, but still part of the man she had known as Vlad Dracul. Her heart pounded in her chest as another question filled her mind. What kind of love was this?

Willie rested her hand over the top of the quaking, clattering cup, not only to hold it still but to make sure she did not allow it slide from the saucer and spill its precious medicinal contents. She also did not want the cup to fall and break. Gannon had bought her the set of cups as a gift for their first anniversary. He knew she loved pretty things, and they typically drank out of clumsy, rough hewn, metal or wooden cups. For such a momentous occasion, he had splurged, buying her something beautiful because he had wanted to build a beautiful life with her. He had succeeded beyond both of their expectations.

Tears burned the backs of her eyeballs, but a smile pulled up the edges of her lips. Every memory of him was bittersweet. He had once told her, 'In life, every good thing, every joy, would always bring with it some sting of pain along the way. It was the pain that reminds us we're human, and the pain that reminds us just how great the good things in life really are.' That was probably some tidbit of wisdom imparted to him by the old gypsy Maurus who was a poet and scholar as much as he was a leader and a healer.

Maurus had been a mystical mage, full of wisdom and magic, and had done so much for them. He had even tried to help Vlad, but the man's pride and selfishness had not allowed him to do that. She could say that it was Maurus who had turned him into this, this creature of the night and hell's spawn, but in the end, no one was to blame but Vlad. Things could have been different. But they were not.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, on the side opposite of the direction in which Alucard was staring, Willie waited for him to notice her. When he did not turn his head to look at her, she cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Have you considered how odd it is, the present absurd situation we find ourselves in?" Alucard questioned without looking at her.

"Drink this," she commanded him, holding out the teacup to him.

"Have you?" he pressed, placing his hand over hers that was holding the cup. Rather than taking the cup from her, he held it with both hands keeping her hand sandwiched between his and the delicate object she gripped.

"How do you mean?" she asked, trying to ignore her frantic heart that was beating in her ears with near deafening volume. She assumed he would release her hand when he lowered the cup from his mouth to speak. He did not. Instead, he enclosed her hand more tightly with one of his while reaching out to seize her by the wrist of her free hand to pull her forward.

"I remember when you were mortally wounded, after that skirmish with the Turks. I thought you were going to die. I've never been so frightened of anything in all of my life," he murmured, his eyes probing hers.

"Gannon and Maurus took good care of me. It was because of them I survived," she quickly pointed out, lowering her eyelashes to break his penetrating stare. She willed her hand that was being held by his not to shake.

"I exacted revenge for you. I gave up my humanity, my soul, to be able to kill the men who did this to you," he said, inclining his head closer to hers.

"You were angry because those men tried to take something from you. I was a possession, a thing, that belonged to you. You acted on the impulses of an angry, spoiled child," she rejoined, gritting her teeth as she seethed with rage.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "I have always loved you. I know I never showed you in the best way possible. I know I hurt you more than you will ever say."

"There's no way I could express in words how deeply you have hurt me time and time again. What good would it do if I tried to explain to you? Hm?" she prodded him, leaning back so she could look upon him with her eyes brimming with rage. "Would you make me another empty promise to never do it again? Would you say I'm sorry? Do you think that will take all of the pain away?"

"No," he stated firmly, his voice strong and clear. He released both of her hands and leaned back against the wall. For a long moment, he stared at her without saying a word. "Leave."

"What?" she gasped, glaring at him in disbelief.

"Leave me," he commanded her coldly.

"I won't," she snapped stubbornly, standing up from the bed.

"Why not? Why are you here? Why do you insist on staying?!" he yelled at her back as she walked away from him.

Willie ran her fingers around the rim of the cup while thoughtfully considering his question. Without turning around to look at him, she answered. "Because you need me. For the first time ever in your egocentric, conceited, pathetic life, _you need me."_

Willie paused, allowing her words to hang in the crushing silence. She patiently waited a bit longer, giving him a chance for a rebuttal, to dare to tell her that her statement was not true. None came.

"You and I can never be rid of each other. Destiny will always bring us together because we are two halves of a whole. A dependent, obsessive whole, but a whole nonetheless. Where there is darkness, there will always be light. The moon would never be seen without the sun. The yin must always have a yang for their to be balance. You will always be a part of me. No matter what."


	24. Chapter 24

Willie was sitting at the table poring over a book about Christian symbols and their meanings. She had accrued quite a few books for research due to her frequent trips into the city to buy supplies. Twice a week she traveled the few miles by foot to the heart of London to purchase food, bandages, and whatever else they needed from the variety of shops lining the cobblestone streets. By relying on her experience of natural medicine mixed with her knowledge of the occult, she worked every day on teas, elixirs, and balms to heal his body. She chanted and prayed and recited incantations. She was adding to her knowledge by studying religious rituals and mysticism as well. She needed to figure out the reason behind Alucard's seeming loss of his powers and reverse the effects. Before she dared to contact anyone from the Catholic Church, she was determined to exhaust all other resources first.

Willie closed the book she had been reading about the Catholic rites of exorcism. Priests believed humans could be possessed by evil spirits, having their bodies taken over and used by the demons for their own purposes since they did not have corporeal bodies of their own. As she read, she contemplated the possibility that other types of supernatural beings could be 'infected' by so called good spirits. Could the priests use ethereal spirits to suppress or eradicate what they believed were bad or evil attributes in other preternatural creatures? It was all too much to think about, and a headache was starting to throb behind her eyes. She rubbed her eyes and exhaled loudly with exhaustion. Her fingers pressed and pinched the muscles along the sides of her neck to relieve the tension that had gathered in them from looking down for hours.

A large, warm palm pressed against the back of her neck, startling her. Willie gasped and jumped to her feet nearly knocking Alucard down when she whirled around. Despite missing limbs, he could still move without making a sound and take her by surprise. He had hobbled over to her on the makeshift crutch she had created for him out of the branch of a sturdy maple tree. A quavery giggle of embarrassment bubbled up her throat and out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry. I was so deep in thought I didn't hear you," she mumbled, running her hand through her hair. She inhaled a lengthy breath while closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she saw that Alucard had coiled one of her loose curls around his forefinger and was allowing it to unfurl like a ribbon as he pulled his hand away. A tingle of excitement rushed down her spine like a stimulating electrical current when his infinite black eyes gradually moved to connect with her cat like greenish gold eyes. "You should be in bed."

"Your hair is turning gray," he noted, summarily ignoring her. He pulled the lock of hair forward where she could see it. Silvery white strands were dispersed among the red-brown hairs. "You need to feed and rest. You are depleting your energy stores."

"I'll be fine," she insisted, sliding her hair from between his fingers. "Tell me where you live. I should take you there."

"Like I have told you a dozen times before, no," he countered grouchily, slowly pivoting his body on his one foot. He always became angry when she mentioned taking him home. "I do not want my master to see me this way. Weak, injured, helpless...pathetic," he spat out as he struggled toward the bed awkwardly. "It is a matter of personal pride."

"It always is with you," she muttered under her breath. She lowered her eyes, unable to watch his odd, hopping steps without wanting to rush forward to assist him. To preserve his pride, of which he had an inordinate amount and all of which was incredibly fragile, she stayed still.

"If I have to go to bed, the least you could do is come with me," he stated with a definitive flirtatious tone in his voice. He paused at the side of the bed, facing her in a standing position. Extending his hand to her in invitation, he waited for her to accept or decline his offer.

Willie grinned in response to his lopsided smirk. She went to him, jerking the crutch from under his arm while simultaneously shoving him back onto the bed. A cry of surprise ejected from her throat when his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her down on top of him. In his usual method of operation, if he was going down, he was not going down alone. Her forehead smacked into his chin, and she could hear the clicking of his teeth as they snapped together. Although they were both in pain, albeit minor, they chuckled uncontrollably.

"Your head is still as hard as ever," he commented, kissing her aching forehead.

"Hmph," she snorted, grateful that her headache was already subsiding. Apparently the laughter had assisted with dispelling some of the tension causing her headache to begin with. Thankfully, them bumping together had not exacerbated the pain. "You're one to talk about a hard head. You won't even let me take you home. You would be more comfortable there. You would have - "

"You know what I would not have?" he asked her suddenly, interrupting her sentence. He had grown quiet and serious, capturing her eyes to convey the gravity of his next words. "I would not have you. I do not want to live without you any longer. It has been so long."

Willie turned her face so his lips would contact her cheek instead of her lips. Being here with him had reminded her of happier times, of what it had been like when they lived in the forest on the mountainside in Transylvania. Memories and emotions, old and new, collided and converged, muddling her mind. She was uncertain how she felt about this Alucard person. He was Vlad, but he was not Vlad. She was trying to see him for himself, for the new and separate person he had become instead of falling in love with a remnant of the past that remained deep inside of him.

"When I kiss you, I want it to be you I'm thinking about," she told him, turning her head back to look at him.

"You always were such a romantic, my dear," he rejoined, kissing the tip of her nose. His eyes skirted over her face, taking her in carefully. His gaze lingered on her lips momentarily before he traced her lips with the tip of his finger.

Willie closed her eyes, unable to contain the low moan that drifted through her slightly parted lips. Her heart quickened in her chest and beat in her ears making her feel like her whole body was throbbing. She was sure that he could feel her heart beating since her chest was pressed to his as she was still lying on top of him. His body was taut and hard under hers. In some places that hardness was quite arousing but disconcerting at the same time.

"You are in love with the concept of being in love," he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to her cheek. "Your ideals and standards where relationships are concerned are as high as the sky."

"I won't apologize for expecting our relationship to be between the us and not to include other women that catch your eye," she stated acidly, rolling off of him. She sat up in preparation to stand up from the bed, but he pulled her back down beside him by grasping her shoulder.

"There's no reason you should," he said, securing his arm across her chest to prevent her from sitting back up. His strength was definitely returning. If only his missing limbs would regenerate. "Don't leave me. Stay beside me. Be mine again."

"I still have my children. I will be a part of their lives as long as I can. You and I have an eternity to figure out our relationship." She stared up at the bare beams the were lined up parallel across the ceiling of the little cabin and supported the roof above them. The beams were an integral part of the support system of this house. She was his support system. "I will remain with you for a while yet," she assured him, rolling her head toward him to look at him. Her eyes caught his before she continued speaking. "I still need to find a solution to this problem. I won't leave you until you can restore yourself properly. Besides, you will need someone to take care of you. You need someone to protect you."

"You always have been my shield and protector," he sighed, giving her a tight smile as if it hurt him to admit that fact. "You were the one who rode into battle ahead of me. You were the last line of defense between myself and my enemies. You have _always_ protected me. The only enemy you could never save me from was myself."

"Vlad," she sighed before inhaling sharply and correcting herself, "Alucard. I mean, Alucard."

"It is fine," he told her when he saw her face grow pink from embarrassment after calling him by the wrong name. "I know am no longer the man you loved. That part of me is locked away where I cannot reach him. This seal holds him prisoner."

"You can never stop being who you really are. He is not really separated from you and never will be. We all change. You have simply changed. That _thing_," she said, referring to the seal placed upon him by a priest,"can seal away your power, but it has not destroyed your memories, thoughts, or emotions. Aren't those the things that make up who we really are?"

"Maybe so. You are the more perceptive one in these matters, Willene. I need you to guide me through the murky waters of emotions," Alucard admitted.

Willie closed her eyes. He was certainly just as taxing on her patience as he always had been. She massaged her neck that had started to tighten up again.

"I can rub your neck for you if you would like," he offered.

"It's fine. Don't worry about that," she rejoined, lowering her eyes from his when his ardent stare became a little uncomfortable for her.

''Sit up," he insisted, moving his arm so that she could do so. He sat up too, waiting for her to position herself with her back to him. "I'll massage it just for a little while...until the pain is completely gone. I want to show my gratitude. You are doing so much to help me. So much I do not deserve," he murmured, gliding his fingers over the smooth, sensitive skin of the nape as he aided her in moving her hair out of the way.

"That is one of the finer points of true love that you never fully grasped," she said, clenching fistfuls of her skirt in her hands as he dug his fingers into her neck. His fingers were so powerful. Her upper teeth caught her lower lip before she could release a moan when his fingertips caressed her neck ever so softly. "You don't love someone because they deserve it. You don't do things for them only because they _deserve _it...or demand it," she added, giving him a sidelong look. Subtle hints had always been lost on him, but she continued on anyway. "You love them on their good days and their bad. You love them when they are being totally unlovable. You do things for them because it makes them happy. When the one you love is happy, you're happy."

"Hmmmm," he hummed pensively, digging his fingers forcefully into her neck. "How does that feel?"

"Great," she replied breathlessly.

Willie had experienced a few great loves; each different and each profound. She knew she had been a very lucky lady in life and love, certain things notwithstanding. All of her loves had brought her both abundant joy and extreme pain. Vlad had been her first great love. She had loved him with every fiber of her being only to have that love turned inside out into hate. She had actually always loved him. Her emotional devastation had warped that love into something else for a time, but her feelings were once again transforming ever so gradually. Gannon had taught her about love in its truest and purest form. Through him she had learned what it meant to be loved completely and selflessly. Eventually she lost the greatest love she had ever known, and it was almost more than she could bear. The children were a totally different manifestation of love. They were the result of the shared feelings of herself and her husband; proof of their love was walking around in a living, breathing form. She had fallen in love with each and every one of them before they were even born. A mother's love knows no bounds and has no end. To have her love returned exponentially from her children is one of the greatest miracles in this world.

"What are you thinking about?" Alucard asked her, squeezing her shoulder.

"I'm thinking about what a lucky woman I am," she murmured, keeping her eyes forward.

"Are you referring to Gannon and your children?" The pressure of his fingers remained gentle and steady, working the muscles under them. He did not seem upset by asking the question. Knowing she was thinking about Gannon appeared to have no effect on him. Perhaps that was a good thing. There would be no point in him being angry about something he could not change, something he had actually caused to happen as an indirect result of his own selfish actions.

"Yes," she answered honestly. "But you also. We've been given another chance. We can make something of this. We can love each other forever."

"That is what I want," he stated in a low voice, pulling her back against him.

"That's all I've ever wanted from you. Just to love me...forever," she whispered, relaxing into his body. She exhaled heavily as if she had been holding her breath. Maybe she had been holding it and did not know it. The sound hitched on the inhale afterward. There was no escaping him. She was destined to love him no matter what.

"Why did you sigh like that?" His fingers followed the round curve of her jaw feeling the muscles flexing under his thumb as it slid across her cheek.

"Like what?" she responded, pretending not to know what he was talking about.

"You sounded so awfully sad. So..." He struggled for the right word for a few seconds. "So resigned. As if you have accepted a fate that you really do not like."

"Maybe I have," she replied candidly. "Some things just are the way they are. They exist no matter how hard we fight them."

"Was...is it that difficult to love me?"

"Oh, yes. It's the hardest thing I've done. And I can't seem to stop."

"You are so easy to love. I took you for granted and abused your love. I continually made it so damn difficult for you to love me. Why?" He ceased speaking, encompassing her waist with his arm to hold her close to him. He did not want her to run away if the conversation should take a disagreeable turn. "Why did you love me?"

"I've often wondered that myself," she admitted, closing her eyes. This conversation was beginning to hurt her heart. "Don't say anything else. I'll stay here with you. I'll take care of you. I have no ulterior motives. I expect nothing in return. I'm doing this because I love you, and I want the best for you. I want see you whole and healthy again. That will make me happy."

"Willene," he sighed, raising his hand to her chin. He nudged her chin to turn her face toward his.

Willie held her breath, waiting for his lips to meet hers. The touch of his mouth to hers was feather light and extraordinarily gentle. The kiss was brief and sweet, bringing to mind her very first kiss, the one she had received from Vlad.

"Stay with me," he implored her, nuzzling her nose with his.

"I am here with you. I won't leave you," she returned, pressing her fingertips to his cheek.

"No. I mean here. In my arms, in this bed," he clarified, tightening his arm around her waist to express his urgency.

Willie had been sleeping in the chair or on the floor. She was sleeping like a normal human because her body was growing weaker. Soon, she and Alucard both would have to feed to build up their energy before they slipped into dormancy.

"I'm tired," she confessed, turning to him to nestle her head into the crook of his neck. "I'm so very tired."

"Then sleep, my beloved. I will hold you," he promised her. "If only I had two arms to hold you."

"You will. Be patient."

"I'm not a patient man."

"You will have to become one. You must also wait on me. Wait for my heart to be yours completely once again."

"I will wait for you."


	25. Chapter 25

_So it has come to this, _Willie thought to herself staring up at the gleaming silver cross on top of the tallest spire of the Catholic Church building. Desperation and fear had brought her here. Those two emotions had driven her to act impulsively and recklessly many times in her life. Desperate to find a solution to Alucard's resistance to healing, she had come to ask questions. Fear, a paralyzing terror actually, of the remote possibility that he could die plagued her mind every minute of every day. Lately, she had awakened from nightmares on numerous occasions. Dreams, good or bad, had eluded her for decades. A lengthy process of elimination in her research had yielded no answers, not even the hint of one. For many weeks there had been no further progress in his healing, and he suffered from frighteningly high fevers. The time had come to get the answers she needed to save him no matter what the cost.

Willie pulled in a deep breath attempting to draw courage from every fiber of her being to gather it and instill it into her wavering heart. The stench of burning incense wafted from the flawlessly white building filling her nose while she stood at the bottom of the stone steps. The scent of Frankincense, a jumble of evergreens, spice, and lemon, had once been a comforting scent. The Catholic Church had also been a source of solace, a certain priest in particular. Now, the Church represented another ominous threat on the list of many. Yet here she was, standing on the doorstep of a den of her enemies, about to willingly walk inside.

"I'm crazy. Completely insane," she muttered to herself as she took the first step toward the door.

Willie walked into the dim candlelit foyer. She took one of the long matches from the wooden box attached to the wall, lighting it from one of the votives that flickered in the little red glass cups. Lighting a candle of her own, she blew out the flame and tossed the matchstick into the tall container holding other spent matches. Advancing into the church auditorium, she proceeded down the aisle keeping her eyes focused on the life sized statue of the crucified Christ situated straight ahead on the wide back wall of the building. Boldly stepping up to the prayer bench, she did the three point sign of the cross over her body then knelt to pray. She bowed her head and folded her hands. A pointless act based on ceremony and nothing else, she fervently prayed to a God who had fallen deaf to her pleas. However, the act brought her solace. It calmed her and gave her the courage she greatly required.

"Are you lost, my child?" a deep masculine voice asked behind her.

There was something familiar about the voice. There was definitive accent, possibly Irish.

"Aren't we all lost, Father?" she rejoined, lifting her head. She did not turn around to look at the man.

"You are quite right, my dear. Some of us more than others," he replied.

"It can't be," she gasped, gripping the padded top of the bench until her knuckles turned white. He sounds like Father Anderson, the priest she had befriended many centuries ago. Suddenly, Willie could not breathe. It was as if all of the air had been pushed out of her lungs. It could not be him. There was no way he could be alive after all of these years. He was only human. But maybe, somewhere along the way, he had become something else. "Father Anderson?"

"Your Highness?" he inquired. His voice clearly conveying his confusion and misgivings.

"I asked you not to call me that," she returned, allowing a smile to play across her lips. Not knowing what to expect, she stayed still keeping her eyes on the statue in front of her.

The statue is a truly wondrous work of art. Streams of blood had been carved into the wood, raised up from the body as if the fluid of life were actually oozing from his numerous wounds. The eyes, though nothing more than varnished walnut, were dark and lifelike, conveying the pain of his tormented body and soul. Humans could be remarkable creatures. Capable of creating life out of something lifeless or destroying it entirely in something already living. The moment of time captured in the sculpture was when Jesus had been separated from God, cut off from his Father - as damned and sinful as the woman kneeling before him. She knew how he felt because she had been condemned and eternally disconnected, but there was no way back for her.

Willie gradually started to breathe again, her breaths ragged and shallow. Her body started to tremble against her will when the priest came closer to her. He was standing so near behind her that she could feel his body heat, but he was not touching her.

"Are you my enemy?" she asked, standing to her feet.

"That depends. Are you still with that fool Vlad?" His voice was sharp as glass and cut right through her.

"The answer is not a simple yes or no. It's more complicated than that, Father Anderson," she answered with purposeful ambiguity.

"Do enlighten me, Countess," he requested.

Willie slowly turned to face him. The man towered above her, more so than he used to. His hair was still blond and short without a single gray in the lot. However, his face looked haggard, old. The years had not been kind to him. There was a huge wedge shaped scar that covered the left side of his face. Starting just under his left eye, the scar gradually widened until it ended under his jaw that was covered with scrabbly blond stubble. His eyes, an amazing emerald green, were just as astoundingly clear as ever. Presently, those piercing eyes were focused on her face, examining her with the same intensity.

Willie attempted to sidestep him, but he stepped in front of her to block her path. She backed away from the imposing priest as he approached her making sure to keep her eyes on his every movement the whole time. He had always been a big man; tall, wide, and muscular. At the moment, he was more intimidating than ever, verging on menacing. Her cautious retreat was instantly halted by the wall behind her. She pressed her back to the wall as if she could sink into it and disappear.

"No, please," she begged him, lowering her eyes so that she would not have to look at his scruffy, scarred face. "I don't want to fight you. I know you said we would be enemies the next time we met, and I understand why. But..." She raised her eyes to meet his. "But I'm here because I have to ask you some questions. And I _need_ answers."

"I will indulge you. Ask," Father Anderson commanded, curiosity making his eyes twinkle. Standing up to his full height that was shy of seven feet by only a few inches, he crossed his arms over his broad chest, waiting for her to ask him whatever she would like.

"What is that tattoo on Alucard's hand? Those are Christian symbols right? Meant to seal away his powers?" she inquired, her eyes searching his as if she would find the answers there. His eyes remained emotionless, unchanging, resembling shiny green glass marbles in his head. If they were the windows to the soul, he was keeping them veiled.

"Yes," he confirmed. "But that's not your real question."

"How did it get there? Who put the tattoo on him?"

"I did," he replied bluntly, dropping his arms to his sides.

"What?" she whispered in astonished disbelief. "You? But why?"

"I warned him. And I warned you. Neither one of you would listen." He turned on his heel, walking a few steps away from her. "I was the one who assisted Van Helsing with trapping Vlad. I am the one who performed the ritual and put that seal on him. Vlad had to be stopped. I had to save those people. I had no choice."

"But...but we were your friends. We always have a choice," she muttered irritably, anger welling inside of her. Her chest rose and fell dramatically with each breath. Breathing had become exceedingly difficult as if she were trying to inhale through mud. Her chest ached and her body started to tingle in the same way a limb does once the circulation has been restored after it had been restricted long enough for it to lose feeling.

"Do we always make the correct choice, Countess?" he retorted, glancing back at her. Apparently her facial expression displayed the truth about her numerous doubts regarding the decisions she had made in her life. She had replayed those doubts a thousand times over in her mind throughout the centuries. "No. We don't," he answered for her. "Yes. You were my friends. That was my mistake. I had no right to befriend you. I was your adversary from the beginning, and I crossed a line. The light has been separated from the darkness since God created the world. I defied what I knew to be true. And I've paid for it dearly."

"Is that how you're still alive? Is that part of your penance? The retribution for your sin?" she inquired, remaining unfazed when he whirled around in blatant anger. The tanned skin of his face turned red and his eyes bulged with white hot rage. "You look like hell, Father. What happened to you?"

"I walked through hell and was able to emerge from that dark place. But not without consequences."

"How are you still alive?" she pressed, raising her chin defiantly like an obstinate child as he approached her.

"It's a long story," he snapped, extending his hand toward her. "But first, there's something else you should know."

Willie shrank away from the fingers that reached for her. Her body trembled until she feared she might rattle apart from the threat of his touch looming ever closer. She started and yelped when the tips of his fingers contacted the skin of her chest. Biting her lower lip to keep from crying out as his fingers glided over her skin, she drew blood by the time his palm flattened to her chest over her heart. Glimpsing at her hand, she saw those odd black lines appearing as if her blood were turning black in her veins. Pushing up her sleeve, she was appalled to discover that the lines snaked all the way up her arm and disappeared under her clothing.

"You have no idea what you really are. Of the potential that lies inside of you. I hid a priceless artifact deep within your heart where no one could take it from you. Not Vlad, not me, not anyone. In a weak, selfish moment, I believed I could play God. But you're accustomed to men who like to play God aren't you?"

Willie gritted her teeth, stubbornly holding his gaze. She growled like a vicious dog when his fingertips stroked over her chest gently, almost lovingly. When he removed his hand and stepped back from her, it was all she could do not to sigh with the relief that made her kneecaps dissolve causing her to lean heavily against the wall.

"Isn't that what Vlad became when he lost his soul and became a vampire? Instead of fighting for God, he became one. He holds the power of life and death in his jaws. He can give the gift of eternal life. Or he can kill, plain and simple, committing murder like any common criminal." He turned his back to her, becoming silent.

"What did you do to me, Father?" she questioned him to bring him back to the point. Her hand pressed to her chest where his hand had lain moments ago. The prickling sensation overtaking her body was gradually rising into a burning pain like her veins were on fire and the flames were scorching her insides.

"Helena's nail," he answer gruffly without turning to look at her. "I pierced your heart with Helena's nail. It was one of the nails used to sacrifice my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I wanted to save you. To restore your eternal soul. The most precious thing that had been stolen from you by that bastard Vlad. I still can't believe he's not dead."

The priest paused, turning to look at her. The flames from the candles burning on the wall sconces reflected in his glasses, shielding his eyes from her briefly before he tilted his head. One corner of his mouth quirked upward, revealing a slightly elongated incisor - longer than normal human teeth but not long enough to be a vampire's fang.

"What the hell.." she gasped.

"It is my duty, my purpose, to kill Alucard. And I will kill you too because you are part of him," he threatened her, grinning at her like a man who had completely taken leave of his senses.

"Bastard," she sneered, glancing down at her hands when her fingertips started to itch and sting as if they were being ripped open. Thin black vines, studded with evil looking thorns, were growing from the end of her fingers. As she stared in frightful awe, the vines grew, getting longer and thicker. "What is this?"

"That's part of your power. Look at the statue. The crown of thorns," he told her, jerking his chin toward the wooden sculpture she had been staring at earlier.

Willie's gaze immediately centered on the crown of thorns on Christ's head. The artist had depicted in great detail how the crown had been tightly pushed down on the tortured man's head making the thorns sink into his skin. In some places it looked as if the thorns had penetrated through not only flesh but muscle as well, all the way to the bone. Her eyes quickly slid back to the priest.

"When did you do this? How did you get that..." She floundered for the correct words, examining the thorny black vines that continued to grow out of her fingers possessing a life of their own. Her eyes flickered back to the priest's face as he continued to smirk at her like he alone knew the secrets to the universe. He did in fact know many secrets about her, and she needed to know the truth about what he had done to her. This little visit was causing her to have to ask more questions; questions to which she did not want to know the answers. "How did you put that _thing _inside of me without me knowing?"

"It was quite easy, your highness," he stated in a rather prideful manner not becoming a priest who was supposed to subscribe to an attitude of humility. "Do you remember the night you came to me after you delivered a stillborn child? It was your fifth one, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I remember," she murmured, dropping her gaze to the floor. The wooden planks under her feet were so highly polished that she could see her reflection. Black lines criss-crossed under her white, nearly translucent face giving her the appearance of being a shattered porcelain doll. Her eyes, including the sclera, had disappeared into inky blackness. The unthinkable had happened: she had become more of a monster than she already was.

"Vlad was no where to be found that night so you came to me. Crying, desperate...in pain emotionally and physically. You had come to me before like this, hysterical and out of your mind. You were breaking my heart. I had to help you." He paused, sucking in a deep breath before he continued. "Did you ever tell him? Did you ever tell Vlad about the children? About your pain? That you needed him?"

"No," she confessed, her voice barely audible.

"No. Because you always came to me!" he yelled without attempting to hide his fury. He cleared his throat, straightening his already perfectly straight clerical collar. "Therefore, I gave you assistance the best way I knew how. That night I gave you tea with extra sedative herbs in it. In a misguided attempt to save you, to prevent you from having to face the crushing pain of the death of another child, I conducted an experiment. I wanted to know if your humanity, your eternal soul, could be restored to you. I thought possibly then you could create and sustain the life you so desperately wanted to bring into this world. After all, two dead soulless things cannot create life. In my selfishness, I wanted to save you from the darkness you had sentenced yourself to." He pressed his hand to her chest again, holding her chin with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. Turning her face upwards, he forced her to look at him. "While you were sleeping, I cut open your chest. Your heart was cold, dead, and black. But you had always been so kind to me, so gentle and warm. I couldn't believe it. You couldn't be this awful dead thing inside and out. I cut open your heart and inserted Helena's nail. In my pompous vanity, I thought I could restore that which was lost. Your heart began beating, turning red with blood as if your very soul had returned. I suppose my experiment was successful to some degree."

"I never knew. I never knew," she mumbled to herself. "Why didn't you tell me what you had done?"

"I never had the chance. The next time you came to see me, I had to warn you about the impending attack. Then it happened, and you were spirited away by the white wolf of the forest. I never thought I'd see you again."

"Yeah. I never thought I'd see you again either. How can you still be alive?" She raised her hands upward, using the vines like an extension of herself to entwine his wrists and neck. Like on the statue, she imbedded the thorns deep within his flesh. "What are you? What have you become?"

"I'm the product of an experiment conducted by the Catholic Church," he croaked since she was strangling him with the vines around his neck.

"You do like experiments, don't you?" She loosened the vines to keep from squeezing the life out of him and also so he could speak clearly. However, she did not remove them from around his neck and wrists to keep him in check should he decide to attack her.

"But not being a test subject. I belong to a special group called Iscariot to be exact," he explained, his voice calm and even. He grunted when she tightened the vines around his neck again. Although the two inch long thorns had penetrated his flesh by at least an inch and drew blood, only a trickle of crimson had escaped the wound before it healed up. "I'm a regenerator. I can heal myself as quickly as I'm injured. I can even regrow body parts if necessary."

_Almost, but not quite, a vampire. A regenerator. _Willie gazed at him, attempting to understand what he had become. Regrowing body parts. That had been a useful, convenient ability that Vlad/Alucard once possessed. She would guess this man, or his minions, were responsible for taking that ability away.

"Are you immortal?"

"No," he laughed humorlessly. There was definitely nothing funny happening right now, especially the torture she was subjecting him to. Regenerating did not render him immune to pain. "I'm getting old as you can very well see. I just have an extended life span. Thanks to that bastard, Vlad."

"How? How is Vlad responsible for this power of yours?"

"To weaken him, to bring Vlad into submission, we made him bleed until there was almost no blood left in his body. I collected his blood in vials for experiments that were to be conducted by Van Helsing in conjuncture with Section XIII."

Willie assumed that was the main part of the super secret faction he was a member of within the church. So the Catholic Church had determined they would create their own army to combat other worldly creatures like vampires and werewolves. It made her shudder with disgust and infuriated her simultaneously.

"Go on," she prompted him, pushing the thorns a little deeper into his skin until blood dribbled out creating longer trails until it soaked into his snow white priest's collar.

Father Anderson closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. This was going to be a long explanation. It was not a pleasant memory for him either. He would rather forget the experiments; the innumerable agonizing injections followed by the even more painful side effects that made him wish he could die to stop the torture. They separated Vlad's blood into its different parts which they injected into his body then waited to document the reaction to the singular components of red blood cells, white blood cells, and plasma, each in turn. By far the worst administration method was when the blood was given to him whole, in a glass, for him to drink. The scientists poked and prodded him. They continued to push and pull him in so many directions he thought he might kill them all in order to find a reprieve from his torment.

"How did you get that scar?" Willie asked, loosening the vines from around him.

"In a scuffle with your beloved Alucard," he answered succinctly, rubbing his neck that was speckled with little red dots where the thorns had sank into his skin that remained streaked with his blood.

"Father, please don't call him that. Unfortunately, Alucard has never been my beloved. Vlad is a part of that man, but not him as a whole entity. Things are...complicated between us at the moment. I wish I could explain."

"You don't have to. Things have always been a bit, as you said, complicated between the two of you. I know you haven't been back in his life for a long time yet. I also know you had another husband. And children. Many children."

"How do you know that?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she glared at him. The vines sank back into her body and the lines faded from her skin.

"I've been keeping track of Alucard's whereabouts for decades. He's the Hellsing family's attack dog. He is why I came to England after all. I was made into this to kill Alucard before I die," he informed her, meeting her eyes when she focused them on his face. He jerked his arm as if to wrench something free. With a metallic hiss like a sword unsheathing, a long blade appeared from under his sleeve, extending until the handle rested in his palm. It was a mystery to her where that blade could have been hidden up the sleeve of his dove gray cassock. He raised the bayonet threateningly until it was within mere centimeters of her face, centered between her eyes. To his great astonishment, she never flinched or moved her eyes from his. "I also kept a watch on you. You were the greatest experiment that neither Van Helsing nor Iscariot knew about. I could not let them know about you." His hand massaged his sore neck as he glared at her. "Don't mistake my scientific curiosity as tender feelings for you. Heed my warning this time. Don't stand in my way. I'll cut through anything or _anyone_ who attempts to stand in between me and my divine appointment to kill Alucard."

"Don't threaten me, Father Anderson. I think we both know by now I'm not your enemy," she reminded him. Her voice nor her gaze wavered. She took him by the wrist, yanking his arm upward. Squeezing his wrist until they both heard the crunch of bone, she waited for him to relinquish his grip on the handle so the blade would slide back down into his sleeve returning to where it had sprang from. "I won't stand in your way. That fight is between the two of you and has nothing to do with me." She let go of his hand, pushing his arm away from her. Anger still burned inside of her. Without a doubt, he was behind the attack that had disabled Alucard. He had to have been present as well to recite the words, the prayer that would activate the seal to lock away Alucard's abilities. "Presently, I have other business with you. I have one last question for you, Father Anderson, then I will leave this place to never return."

"Well, what is it?"

"How do I get rid of that tattoo? I want to restore his powers."

"Why should I tell you how to do that?" he challenged her, raising a blond eyebrow. His green eyes danced, conveying his amusement.

"Because Father, I'm sure you would prefer a fair fight. It would be a sad, shallow victory if you fought him in his present pathetic state. Besides, he would offer you no real resistance because he is incapable of defending himself. I know you would want Alucard at his fullest potential so when you kill him, you could gloat in your triumph, wallowing in pride that is nearly sinful," she said, noting the gleam in his eyes that told her she was absolutely correct.

"If I help you, I want you to come back to me. To help me," he said, the glint fading from his eyes as they became cold, calculating.

"No," she responded flatly, making the vines appear at her fingertips. "Why shouldn't I kill you now?"

"Because if you do, you will never know how to help him. Only I hold the key to unlocking that seal and releasing him," he reminded her.

"Tch," she sneered, turning her back to him. "What do I need to do to get rid of that mark?"

"You're not going to like hearing what I have to tell you," he rejoined matter of factly.

"I'm sure I won't. You've already said many things that I did not like hearing. Tell me," she commanded him.

"Cut it off," Father Anderson had boldly declared to her, the hint of an eerie little smile returning to his lips.

"What?" she had asked, blinking at him in disbelief.

"Cut off his hand. The only way to destroy it is to cut off the hand that bears the seal. Cut it off and the seal will be broken. His healing powers, all of his powers, will be unlocked. However, you should know this...you risk unleashing the fury of hell itself on this earth. When that seal is destroyed, _everything_ inside of him will be released," he warned her ominously without offering further explanation. "It will be like opening Pandora's Box."

"Then what do I do?"

"There will be a price to pay for me to tell you the rest. Promise you'll come back to me. Hellsing has their vampire. I believe Iscariot should have theirs. Fight fire with fire as the saying goes. You will be an asset, and I will take care of you as such."

"No."

"Not even for your children?" he queried, resorting to dirty but effective tactics. He had been holding a trump card for ages, waiting for this moment. "They're holed up in a castle in the Black Forest of Germany. All of the gypsies are there. All of the werewolves. Your entire family. They believe they have found a safe haven. They think no one knows they're there. I know they're there." The expression in his eyes softened, reminding her of the kind priest he had been when he was younger. He shrugged his brawny shoulders and sighed sadly. "They're innocents in all of this. Neither one of us wants anything to happen to them. Don't make me do something we'll both regret."

Willie's eyes widened with mind numbing fear. No. Not her children. She knew exactly what he was hinting at. She had no choice but to come back to him and help him or her children would be killed; _all_ of her family would be killed.

"If I come back to you, they will be safe?" She squinted her eyes, trying to discern if he was telling her truth. He was unreadable like a marble statue and just as frigid and unfeeling.

"Yes. I will make sure no harm comes to them. As a matter of fact, the group I have watching them will become their protectors. I promise," I added when she looked doubtful.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?"

The solution to rid Alucard of the tattoo was simple. Almost too simple to be true. He could be tricking her into dealing Alucard a death blow. If he were lying and she cut off Alucard's hand, he would bleed to death without his healing powers. His only chance at survival would be if he slipped into dormancy before he used up all of the remaining souls in his body. The supply must be running extremely low at this time. But then Father Anderson seemed to know that there was something horrible inside of Alucard that she had no idea existed. Perhaps he actually contained a shockingly large, almost endless capacity to store souls. They would all be freed at once like a tidal wave of vengeful ghosts bent on destroying humanity should the seal be broken. She had no idea what would happen. The priest could be lying about everything. Alucard would be gone for good and her children would still be in danger. She was trapped no matter what in order to preserve her children. To protect her family, she would be tethered to the priest regardless because of her own naivete and willingness to believe his deception. But if he spoke the truth...

"You don't know if I'm lying to or not. You'll just have to trust me." He grinned at her broadly, his lips stretching back from his teeth to reveal his psuedo-fangs. "Have a little faith."

Have a little faith indeed.

~...~

* * *

Willie's steps were slow and heavy as she trudged back to the little water wheel house. She had flown most of the way to beat the coming dawn because she did not want people to see her. A walk through the peaceful woods would help her clear her head so she would be able to think things through. Unfortunately, there was nothing left to think about. She was left with no choice. Somehow she had become entangled in a trap of her own making. She had warned her children about seeking help from the church, and she had stupidly ignored her own advice.

"Still acting on emotion and getting yourself into trouble. Gannon warned you about that," she fussed at herself out loud. "But this is the kind of stupid thing you do for someone you love."

Willie pulled the piece of paper from her pocket to study the drawing the priest had made for her. He had given her another seal to place on Alucard. She was to inscribe the seal on his heart using the nail he had given her. Pulling the rather large object out of her other pocket, she looked at the piece of wood that had been carved into a sharp point on one end. It looked like a small wooden stake - like the ones humans used to stab vampires in the heart as a means to kill them. This brutish method only worked on the low vampires, the third and fourth generation breeds whose bloodline was so diluted by the humanity within their host's blood that they barely had any vampiric power at all. To an original like her, a stake in the heart had no effect except making her angry. More than once she had pulled the stake out of heart to skewer that of the vampire hunter who had tried to murder her. She hated the despicable being she was capable of becoming when pushed to do so. Her attention was drawn back to the nail in her hand that was a sister to the one imbedded in her heart. There was a third nail because the Christ had been held to the cross with one in each wrist and a third that went through both of his feet. The priest vaguely divulged the hiding place of the third as being somewhere in the Pope's office in the Vatican in Rome. She definitely would not be going there. At least not of her own free will. She sighed loudly, stuffing the items back into her pockets.

"This is what you do for someone you love," she stated flatly, raising her head to look ahead at the door to the tiny cabin. "But, what have you done for me to show your love?"

Too late to think about that now. Besides, she was the one who told Vlad that the true meaning of love is to sacrifice without expecting anything in return. Grasping the nail inside of her pocket, she thought about the sacrifice made out of love by the man whose wrists and feet had been punctured with this piece of wood. In the end, while he was dying, he had been despised and hated by everyone, including his own Father. He never once complained or begged them to stop. He went willingly because he wanted to save everyone. She only wanted to save one man, but she was sacrificing herself to protect everyone she loved.

"All in the name of love," she told herself, halting at the door. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on the door not caring that splinters from the weathered wood were poking into her skin. She gasped when the door was unexpectedly pulled away from her, and she started falling forward. A strong arm reached out to block her fall before pulling her into a solid, bare chest.

"Where have you been? I've been worried!" he exclaimed, embracing her in a single armed hug.

"I've been out for a walk," she murmured, putting her arms around his waist to sink into his comforting warmth. She would miss his warm body once he was restored to his full vampire strength.

"For two days!" he yelled, pulling her into the cabin and closing the door with a shove from his shoulder.

"Two days? Has it really been that long? I thought - "

"It doesn't matter." He pressed his lips to hers for a passionate kiss that expressed his relief and joy of seeing her again. After kissing her with a nearly bruising force, he lifted his lips from hers and crushed her to his chest with shocking strength. "I was afraid...so afraid..."

"I had left you. Yeah, I know."

"No. That something had happened to you, and I would not be able to help you. I cannot protect you being like this." Alucard gazed down at her, studying her face, paying particular attention to her eyes. "What have you done? I don't like that look in your eyes."

"What do you mean?" she asked, plastering a quivering smile to her lips. Tears filled her eyes, brimming at her lower lid.

"I have seen that expression before. It reminds me of the way your eyes looked after you gave up your soul and became a complete vampire. What have you given away that you cannot get back? What have you done?" He ceased speaking, delving deeper into her eyes with his infinite orbs. He had always possessed the uncanny talent to see right into the deepest part of her where she attempted to hide her emotions from him. "Or is that look because of something you are about to do?

"Alucard, I - " Her words were cut off by a sob. She pressed her face to his chest, her body shaking while she bawled.

Unable to find a way to explain to him where she had been and what had happened - and about what was going to happen - she decided to not say anything at all. He was right. He could not help her or protect her. She turned her face up to look at him, seeing that he was staring down at her with a soft, alluring look in his eyes. Her eyelids fluttered closed when he lowered his mouth to hers for a tender, sublime kiss. Willie shrugged out of her coat that warded off the chill of the damp, foggy nights but could not warm her body from the icy grip of fear. Her shaking fingers went to the buttons on the front of her dress.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Isn't is obvious?" She continued to unbutton her dress until she could slide it down her arms for it to glide down her body into a pile of material around her feet.

"Yes, but - "

"Just kiss me," she begged, pulling his mouth back down to hers. She enclosed his narrow waist with her arms, guiding him backwards to the bed while he kissed her. Feeling the resistance of the bed behind his knees, she pressed her hands to the top of his shoulders to push him down onto the mattress. She needed this ultimate closeness, the type that only only sexual intimacy brings. She longed to feel his body, to be reminded of what it was like to be his, to be one with him again.

"Willene, are you sure?" he questioned her, resisting slightly when she pushed him back on the bed.

"I'm sure," she answered, laying down on top of him.

Willie gazed into his eyes that glowed like embers from a dying fire while Alucard cupped her cheek with his palm. She hovered above him, preparing to take him inside of her. One night. One last special night for the both of them to remember for a while. They could relive the love and pleasure of their past and recall this night in the future when they were apart.

"Forgive me," she whispered, lowering herself onto him.

"For what?" He inhaled sharply, holding her by the waist. Closing his eyes, he groaned in pleasure as she gradually sank down to take him inside of her.

"For everything I'm about to do," she returned, gliding up and down on him.

"There's nothing to forgive," he murmured, kissing her again.

Willie could not make the tears stop while she made love to him. The past and the present converged into a nostalgic, poignant mix of the love they once shared and the one they wanted in the future; the love they had always strived to maintain and keep alive despite everything that kept them separated. She cried out in astonishment when he flipped her over onto her back.

"You still amaze me," she told him as he propped himself up on his one arm to stay above her so he could gaze down at her.

"I could say the same for you," he rejoined, keeping his eyes on her face. "So beautiful, my love. I want to be with you forever."

Forever had a tendency to be disturbingly short periods of time for them with eternal separations between.

"Alucard," she gasped, grasping his waist with her fingers splayed apart. Looking into his eyes, she could see Vlad. She could see the man who had taken her heart captive and never let it go. Her eyelids lowered, shutting out the sight because it hurt too much. Her hand pressed to her heart that was aching within her chest. _Damn you, Father Anderson. May the God in whose name you fight damn you to hell for this because I know he would not condone your actions_, she thought to herself.

"Willie, open your eyes and look at me. I want to know it is me you are thinking about as I make love to you," he said, cautiously lowering his body down onto hers. "Call my name again. Let me be the one. Me. Not Vlad."

"Alucard."

Willie did as he asked, holding his ardent gaze while his hips moved in rhythmic fluid motions. Pleasure and pain, physical bliss merged with emotional turmoil to produce a heightened state of sensitivity in both arenas that was almost too much for her to endure. She cried out, a mournful, wailing sound, in ecstasy from the rapture imparted to her body which unfortunately offered no respite from her tortured mind. Soon she found it impossible to keep her eyes open as the pleasure took hold of her in a way that she could no longer form thoughts. She gave herself over to the ecstasy, willingly and gratefully losing herself in it. For a while, nothing mattered but the bliss, the satiating of her body's lust by the man she loved. She loved him. She loved him with everything inside of her, and nothing - not man or god, not changing his appearance or his name - could destroy it. Her arms enclosed his neck when he collapsed on top of her, panting and sweating.

"I love you, Alucard," she whispered into his ear, rubbing her cheek across his in the manner of an affectionate feline.

"Yeah, I know. It's about time you admitted it," he teased with a lopsided grin before giving her a gentle peck on the lips.

Willie closed her eyes, clutching him to her body. _Forgive me, forgive me. Tomorrow I will save you - or kill you. Then I will leave you._

But he had known from the beginning of her return to him that it was only temporary. The thing he did not know was that she would be leaving to serve his enemy to protect her family. In her forlorn melancholy, she totally ignored the point that she would be leaving him for righteous and just causes. She was doing this to save him and to protect her children. It was as if she had forgotten about the times he had abandoned her to pursue far less virtuous objectives. But she had always loved him anyway. Although he had changed appearance and names, way down deep, her feelings had stayed the same.


	26. Chapter 26

Willie paced the small area around the bed, occasionally glancing at Alucard. He was sweating profusely despite lying naked in the cool room. The fever had come back during the night. He groaned in his sleep, miserable and in pain. Suddenly his body started to shiver, his teeth chattering together from the chills. There was no fire, and there was no need to build one. Everything that could be done to help him had already been done. Except for one thing. One ghastly, terrible act remained to be carried out.

Willie closed her eyes to hold back the tears that stung them. The time for tears had come and gone. She had something of vital importance to do. There was no reason to continue thinking about this anymore. Her aversion to the grisly deed would not go away if she kept mulling it over for another few hours. Besides, time was running out for Alucard. She had to do it to now or risk losing him. Clenching her teeth, setting her jaw with determination, she strode toward the door to go outside. She walked straight toward the stump where she always left the ax after chopping wood for a fire. Her fingers wrapped around the handle to jerk it out of its holding place.

Spinning on her heel, she faced the house taking a moment to inhale a deep cleansing breath. Forcing her body to move took every ounce of willpower she possessed. Her steps quickened as she walked toward the house. By the time she crossed the threshold, she had broken into a full run. She ignored the misgivings spoken by the voice of doubt from the deepest recesses of her mind. There was no backing down from this. It had to be done. Propelling her body forward at full speed, she raised the ax above her head gripping the handle tightly with both hands. Swinging the sharp blade down with all of her strength, she aimed for the area of his forearm halfway between his wrist and elbow. Her belly tightened and the bile rose in her throat when the ax sliced through his flesh with no resistance. The bones of his arm separated with a revolting crunch offering little opposition to the weapon. The blade easily cut through the rest of the muscle and skin of his arm to completely sever the limb bearing the offensive tattoo.

At last, the thing killing him had been separated from his body. Willie dropped to her knees beside the bed. The worst part was over. Or so she thought.

Alucard jerked to a sitting position, fully awake and inundated by agony. He bellowed like the mortally wounded creature he had become, thrashing around on the bed helplessly. Blood spurted from the stump where his hand and part of his arm had been, painting the room with gory splashes of red.

Willie jumped when his warm blood splattered across her face and covered the snowy white apron she was wearing over her drab brown dress. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with his blood to create streaks of red that made her appear to be crying blood. She covered her face with her hands, unable to bear the sight of watching him die. Wailing in sorrow, her mournful cries mixed with his tortured screams to create a cacophony of suffering that deafened them both.

Alucard's movements gradually grew less violent until he lay writhing on the bed, groaning in misery. His burning red eyes fixed themselves on her while his blood soaked the straw filled mattress under him. His lips peeled back from his gritted teeth, saliva forming into a foam at the corners of his mouth.

"What did you do?" he snarled through his teeth.

"I'm saving your life," she calmly answered, unwilling to panic. If she panicked, she would not be able to complete the rest of the ritual. Without placing the new seal on him and repeating the necessary prayer, he would, without a doubt, die. Immortality had come at a great price and had limits as well.

Willie placed her hand on the edge of the bed, averting her eyes from the man lying there gasping out his dying breaths. She pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly once she was standing. Since he had weakened and death loomed ever closer, it was time to begin etching the tattoo on his chest. Straddling his waist, she pulled the nail from the pocket of her apron. Muttering the prayer the priest had made her memorize, she sank the pointed tip of the wood into his skin, ripping through his flesh to mark him with the seal that would keep the hell inside of him from being unleashed.

"Willene, how could you do this?" Alucard growled at her, glaring at her while she continued to drag the nail through his skin.

"I'm saving your life. I'm saving your life," she repeated like a mantra. Tears continued to leak from the corners of her eyes. "I-I had to do th-this. There was no other way to save you."

"If I survive this, I'm going to kill you," he threatened, his voice a breathy whisper.

"Do what you have to do, Alucard. I'm doing what I have to do to save you," she responded mechanically. Her voice was devoid of emotions despite the raging tides of emotions within her that threatened to drown her. Her heart was breaking, being squeezed by remorse and sadness each time he yelled out in pain as she cut into his skin to mark him.

Alucard's body shuddered under her, undergoing the final death throes. His last breath exited his lungs in an extended wheezing exhale. Then his body lay still under her.

Allowing herself a moment to gather her wits, Willie ceased making the seal to suck in a shaky breath. Using the loose sleeve of her shirt, she wiped away the sweat, blood, and tears from her cheeks. She recited the prayer three more times while completing the tattoo. Once she was done, relief and exhaustion overwhelmed her. Her shaking hand pressed to his cold, sunken cheek that had already taken on the grayish pallor of death. How long would this take? When would he awaken? Unable to move, she simply laid down on top of him. She cupped both of his blood spattered cheeks in her shaking blood covered hands, pressing her forehead to his. She was too tired to do more than moan pitifully while she cried to pour out the anguish and guilt that was killing her in a way she never anticipated.

"Forgive me. You have to understand, I had to do it," she moaned, her tears splashing down onto his face. "I'm sorry. More than you'll ever know."

Without warning, two strong hands grasped her throat. Willie felt his ribs expanding under her when he pulled life giving air into his previously deflated lungs. Her fingers feebly clawed at his hands trying to unhinge his fingers from her neck. He was choking the life out of her. His thumbs pressed against her windpipe imparting excruciating pain while threatening to crush it. Her strength was all used up, completely gone. Her hands fell away from his, dropping to her sides. She leaned forward over him, her body hanging limply like a lifeless marionette while he held her up with his hands that encircled her neck. Her eyelids dropped to shield her eyes from seeing the embers of hell burning in his.

"Oh, Willie, how could you do this?" he whispered, sitting up under her. He lowered his hands from her neck, sliding one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist to hold her close to him. Her body quavered in his arms while she shed silent tears that dripped onto his bare shoulder. "You saved me."

"Alucard, I need you to do something for me," she whispered, her breathing heavy and labored. "Take me to Father Anderson. I made a promise I absolutely can't break. I have to return to him."

"What? Why?"

"I have to. Please, understand. I had to...I had to do it to save you. And to protect...protect..."

"Protect who?" he asked, holding her tightly against him. He shook her when she grew still and quiet. "To protect who, Willene? Tell me so I can help you!" He pressed his cheek against her chest but there was no heartbeat, no rise and fall of her chest. His arms tightened around her while he rocked back and forth with her dead body sitting in his lap. "No, no, no, no...this can't be happening."

Alucard carefully lay her back on the bed, hovering over her on all fours. His body had returned to its original state; whole and healed. His powers had returned. She had restored him to his full form. He pressed his forehead to her chest.

"Oh, Willie, why? Why did you do this?" He needed to know. There was only one way to find out. Before her blood could begin to congeal and her body slipped into a state of hibernation, he sank his teeth into the artery at her collarbone. Tears slid down his face as he drew out her blood that had already started to cool inside of her body.

Alucard was not prepared for the flood of memories and emotions that would invade his mind. The first image he saw was of Willie digging a hole with her bare hands. It was not just any hole but a grave; a grave for a tiny body wrapped in a white cloth. Then he saw her alone, covered in blood from the waist down and screaming in torturous pain, going through the agony of labor. In his mind, he observed her face contorting into a mask of heart rending sadness when she lifted the stillborn baby from between her legs. Five times. A total of five times he was forced to watch her experience the sorrow of losing a child. Their children. If he was not feeling her emotional dismay just as she had endured it, he could never have imagined her misery. To make the whole matter worse, he was experiencing the despondency of his own, of learning of his five dead children for the first time.

"No," Alucard gasped, lifting his mouth from her neck. He wanted the pain to stop. Unfortunately, the waves of memories kept coming one after after the other like waves of the ocean rolling to the shore.

Suddenly there was a surge of dysphoria so great inside of him that it made him experience the physical pain of a tight chest, aching heart, and inability to breath - a different kind of heart attack. There were no memories attached to the despair only a bleakness, nothing but black, that stretched on forever through his mind. Unexpectedly, the devastating heaviness of melancholy he could not fathom weighed upon him bringing tears to his eyes. Then anger surged inside of him making him yell in response. The rage morphed into a desolate sensation of loneliness and the cold chill of betrayal. Apparently this was when she was waiting for him, hoping against hope that he would return for her. But he never came.

A pinpoint of light punctured the darkness that threatened to swallow him up and make him lose his sanity completely. The light began to grow, steadily illuminating and warming the inner sanctum of his psyche. Brilliantly colored banners flapped in the wind. There was laughter in the air and happy, dancing people all around. There were five children of varying ages sitting at his feet. Looking down, he could feel the swell of a pregnant belly under his hands. He was inside her body as she had been back then.

"Oh, Willie," Alucard murmured, understanding that he was seeing what she had seen once. These were her children, and she was pregnant with the sixth. Contentment, tranquility, and love washed over him like a refreshing summer rain. She had been happy, truly happy. Many more images of blissful family life flipped through his head like a picture book. However, the blue skies started to turn gray and clouds began to gather. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed.

Flames of red, yellow, and orange filled his vision. This was not the fire that had consumed their little cabin but a memory of another devastating fire - the one that reduced the body of her husband Gannon to ash. A wail of mourning started from deep in his throat, rising until he had no choice but to throw back his head and howl to release the sadness exactly as she had on the day of her second husband's funeral. Her sons stood by the pyre ravaged by flames still holding the lit torches in their hands while tears ran down their faces. As ceremony had dictated, they had been the ones to light the resin soaked logs under Gannon's body. They looked like their father but had the emotional fortitude of their mother. The sobs of her daughters could be heard as they knelt by her sides with their faces buried in her lap or the folds of her dress at her arms. Sadness so profound he feared it might kill him all over again grabbed him by the throat and strangled him until the howl devolved into a choking sob.

Willie had always been a pillar of strength, supporting him emotionally. She cried for him; shed tears because he was incapable of doing so. She had been the one to express kindness, affection, and compassion for him. He had left it up to her to outwardly show the tender emotions toward others because he could not. An incredible burden for her to bear, but she had managed it while remaining tranquil and sweet. Instead of growing cold and shriveled, over the years, her heart had expanded to show more love and warmth to those around her despite her hardships. She was a truly an incredible woman he had taken for granted. By his own negligence, he had lost her many times, yet she always found a way to come back to him.

"How could you go through all of this? How could you endure?" he cried, rocking her body that he held in his arms. He had his own apology to make despite its uselessness. "I'm sorry I was never there for you. I'm sorry I abandoned you in so many ways. I wish I had known about our children. I wish...I wish..."

Alucard ceased speaking. The words fell hollow and meaningless on his own ears. He stroked the hair of the woman he loved, the woman he had murdered countless times, both literally and figuratively, with his own selfishness. Once she again, she had given up her life for him. His breathing had become rapid and shallow, leaving him on the verge of panting for air. He concentrated on calming his breaths, steeling himself for the next onslaught of memories. This time, he was obliged to view the events that had unfolded a few nights ago, that had led to her cutting off his hand and healing him. Instantly, he understood why she had done it , and why she needed to return to the priest.

"I do not want to give you to him any more than you want to go, my love," he told her despite her not being able to hear him. "But I must. I will help you keep your promise which will keep your children safe. I know how much you love them." He embraced her, brushing his lips across her cheek. "I can only make this solemn promise to you...I will reclaim you as soon as possible. I will make the priest pay dearly for doing this to you. Regretfully, I will have to ask you to wait for me...one more time."


	27. Chapter 27

Father Anderson was sitting at the desk in the study attached to his bedroom. He had been reading through one of the copies of Abraham Van Helsing's notes that the man had given him before his death. This particular set of notes detailed the account of one of the various ways the relentlessly cruel man had killed Vlad to test his immortality. Van Helsing had employed the Medieval torture technique of drawing and quartering. Staying true to all aspects of the barbaric practice, he had tied the limbs of the vampire to four horses, sending them out in opposing directions to tear off his limbs. Van Helsing himself had then beheaded Vlad. With blood still staining his clothes, the man had sat down next to the limbless, decapitated body to feverishly scribble what he observed when the vampire started to regenerate. Disturbing. Truly disturbing.

Alexander rubbed his eyes wishing he could wipe the memory from his head. That memory and many others still haunted the periphery of his mind, keeping him awake at night. Tonight was one of the many sleepless nights he had endured over the centuries. Although he was not immortal, time had become his enemy because there was far too much of it stretching behind him and waiting ahead of him. He had also been present for many of the experiments conducted by Van Helsing in a professional capacity as a representative of the Catholic Church. It seemed fitting since he had been there since the official beginning of the great vampire experiment. The researchers of Iscariot had relied heavily on the findings of the self-proclaimed paranormal scientist to perform their own experiments. The priest himself had been their favorite test subject. His abilities, being a regenerator had come at a price he had not wanted to pay, but Iscariot had made the decision for him all in the name of God. Many times he had been hard pressed not to lose his own faith.

Taking off his glasses, the weary priest lay them on the desk next to the handwritten notes bound between roughly cut pieces of leather and held together with thick cotton twine. The pages had turned brown with age and the ink was beginning to fade. However, new copies had been made for posterity, printed on a mechanical printing press and formed into professionally bound books for future reference. He closed his eyes, blindly reaching out for the gold metal goblet filled with wine to bring it to his lips.

Two muted thumps like heavy boots stepping onto the thick Persian rug covering the floor of the study made his ears perk up as his body went on high alert. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, sending a tingle down his spine. There was another presence in the room. He was being watched. His eyelids gradually separated to reveal the vampire once name Count Dracula standing in the middle of the room a mere few feet away on the other side of his desk.

Alucard had a grossly flamboyant way of dressing, wardrobing himself like a fop. He favored black pants of either leather or cotton and frilly white shirts like those worn by a seventeenth century poets. Black leather boots, a blood red Victorian coat, and a wide brimmed red hat always completed his ensemble. He was a sore sight for the eyes in his get up of choice.

"Why are you here?" the priest calmly asked, refilling the goblet with red wine from the glass carafe on his desk.

"Delving into the stash of sacramental wine I see," Alucard accused, his lips peeling back from his teeth so that they flashed in the low light of the single lamp illuminating the room.

"I doubt you've come to judge me on my vices you godless abomination so I'll ask one more time," he said, his self-control that was keeping from attacking the vampire wearing thin. "Why are you here?"

Alucard dramatically threw open one side of his coat to reveal the woman he held tightly against his body underneath. "I've brought you your prize, Priest."

Alexander Anderson slowly stood to his feet. His steps were leaden as he walked around to stand in front of the vampire that was shorter than him by at least a foot. The woman looked so tiny and fragile - and dead. He extended his hand toward her, smiling when Alucard instinctively jerked to the side to pull her out of reach. His hand dropped to his side, forming a fist.

"She's of no use to me dead," the angry priest growled, spinning around on his heel to return to his desk. "Leave. Now. I have no further business with you tonight."

"She is not dead, you imbecile," Alucard snarled, lifting the woman into his arms in a bridal carry. "You of all people should recognize a vampire in hibernation. It has been too long since she has fed. She needs blood. Fresh blood."

Long white incisors with needle like points glinted sinisterly at him. Standing back up, he took the few steps required to reach the door to his bedroom.

"Bring her in here," Alexander ordered him, opening the door as a hint for him to go inside. "You can lay her down on the bed."

"In _your_ bed?" the vampire asked, holding her body more securely to his chest.

"Does it matter?" If he were not already annoyed, he would have found the vampire's misplaced jealousy comical.

"Not in _your_ bed. Somewhere, anywhere, else."

"Fine," the priest huffed impatiently, crossing the room in a few steps to snatch open the door that led to the hall.

Thankfully there was a vacant bedroom across the hallway. Taking a skeleton key out of his pocket, he unlocked the door pushing it open wide to allow the vampire to enter in front of him.

"Is this more to your liking?" he questioned the picky vampire.

Heavy maroon and gold tapestries covered the windows. The canopy bed was surrounded with vermilion velvet curtains tied back to the ceiling high posts with gold cord. Dark colored black walnut paneling made the room appear even darker. All of the dark objects and materials in the room seemed to suck in the feeble light from the gaudy Tiffany lamp on the bedside table.

Alucard carefully lay Willie down on the black and maroon silk comforter. At least it was not the bed the priest he had lain in. Putting her in such a place hinted at an intimacy he could not bear to think about. He leaned down to kiss her frozen lips before standing back up to face the priest who stood at the door glowering at him.

"Take care of her," Alucard entreated his enemy allowing the hint of a threat to slip into his voice.

"Oh, don't you worry about that, Vampire. I plan to take very good care of her," Father Anderson returned, purposely insinuating something he had no intention of doing. The vampire was instantly right in front of him, bearing his teeth and growling like a rabid dog.

"If you dare to lay a finger on her, if you violate her in any way, I swear I will kill you," he warned the priest wearing the humorless smile.

"Leave," he ordered the intruder with a chilly tone. "I would hate for your precious woman to be hurt should a scuffle ensue with her so close by."

"I have one more question before I go. Why did you never tell me about them?" Alucard questioned the priest. "I had a right to know."

"What are you going on about?" Alexander rejoined, genuinely perplexed. He had no inkling whatsoever what the vampire could be referring to.

"My children. Why did you never tell me about them? I could have helped her, but - " Alucard's words suddenly ceased. He swallowed making a sound that could be heard by both of them in the silence. "But you were there instead."

Alexander Anderson sighed sadly. "She came to me because she felt she had no one else to turn to. She begged me not to tell you. I helped her bury those poor, tragic babes that never had a chance at life. I prayed for them. I prayed for her. She needed me, and I was there for her." He leaned down close to the vampire, staring right into his eyes that were glowing like twin orbs of furious hellfire. "Where were you?" Despite seeing the blatant hatred and pure murder in the other man's eyes, he dared to continue needling him. "That whole time, throughout all five losses, you were never there for her. But I was."

Alucard growled viciously, bearing his teeth threateningly. "I cannot be held accountable if I did not know!"

"I see the ritual worked," the priest remarked to change the subject. The past could not be changed, and the vampire was making excuses for a lifetime of bad habits he had repeated through the centuries. He had no patience to hear any of it. "Despite all that you are and everything you never will be, she gave up everything for you," Father Anderson stated in an accusatory tone. He openly insinuated that Alucard was not worth her sacrifice because he believed it to be true.

"You are using her children to hold her captive, to bend her to your will. Is that not an incredibly disgraceful thing to do...even for you?"

"She told you?" Alexander tried to hide his surprise but feared he failed miserably in doing so.

"No. She did not tell me a thing. I have my ways of discerning things," Alucard returned with a noncommittal shrug.

"So it's true. A vampire can experience memory transference when drinking blood straight from a live victim's body," Anderson murmured in awe.

Telepathy, memory transference, shared emotional and physical pain, were among the unbelievable psychological anomalies documented by Van Helsing to be experienced by vampires, between each other or with their victims. He had not experienced any of these. Of course he could not be deemed a true vampire either. So what did that make him? An abomination of an abomination? It was too much to endure. Alexander gnashed his teeth, hating himself more in that moment than he ever had in his entire life. Almost more than he detested the vampire standing in front of him.

"Get out before I destroy you and her," the priest ground out between his teeth, spittle flying past his lips.

Alucard crossed the room, flinging back the heavy curtains to open the window. He jumped up onto the windowsill but turned back to look at Father Anderson before leaving.

"Take good care of her. Keep your promise not to hurt her children. If you do not, there will be a steep price to pay," Alucard warned him, fastening his murderous eyes on the priest. "I will be the one to come collect it. I will do things to you that will make you pray to go to hell for a reprieve."

Alexander Anderson calmly watched the vampire drop over the edge of the window ledge then a cloud of shrieking bats soared into the sky from below the window flying off into the night. After closing the window and replacing the tapestries to shut out the sun when it rose, he went to the bed. Sitting down by the unconscious woman, he allowed his fingertips to tenderly brush over her cold cheek. In her present state, she looked like any ordinary dead woman instead of a vampire whose body had gone into hibernation to preserve her immortal status until she could receive the blood that would restore her.

"Well, your highness, I suppose I should find you a blood donor to bring you back to life."

Rising from the bed, Father Anderson set out to search for a volunteer. If a willing participant could not be found, he would settle for an unwilling sacrificial lamb - of the human variety of course.


	28. Chapter 28

Rising from the hibernation was like floating upwards from the bottom of the ocean. Willie was breathing but barely. Pressure surrounded her, squeezing her body and compressing her lungs preventing her from inhaling deeply. Her body gradually began to lighten, the weight shifting off of her as she was carried from the bottom of the abyss where she had lain within reach of death for an unknown period of time. Eventually she broke through the invisible but palpable barrier, sucking in a noisy wheezing breath to completely inflate her half filled lungs with air. She opened her eyes, staring at the crimson and gold expanse above her while her chest rose and fell laboriously to drag in more oxygen to revive her body. An attempt to move her arm was immediately halted by a hand that seized her wrist. The hand was cold like that of a dead person. The fingers that enclosed her wrist were long and thin yet incredibly strong. She turned her arm and yanked her wrist to try to free herself but the hand held tightly increasing to an almost crushing force. There was a stinging pain in the crook of her arm when she continued to struggle.

"Don't move," a low raspy voice commanded her. "You'll pull out the needle."

Willie's head jerked toward the owner of the gravelly voice. She gasped to see an old man sitting in a chair beside the bed. He looked older than time, fragile, and weak. However, he was sitting up in the chair, eyes wide open, while holding onto her with a strength his frail body appeared incapable of possessing. The crepe-like skin on his narrow face was folded into innumerable wrinkles and held the gross grayish coloration that comes with death. His eyes were a faded blue, nearly colorless. His hair was white and slicked against his head giving him the appearance of being bald. Glancing down at his arm, she saw that there was a needle inserted into the area where it bent. Her eyes followed the length of tube colored red from the blood that filled it from his arm to hers. His blood was flowing into her body, restoring her life to wake her from her hibernation.

"No," she gasped, her eyes returning to his tired, haggard face. The knowledge that she was stealing his life, killing him, dawned on her. The realization made her queasy and a for a moment black spots appeared and danced in her vision as her body threatened to make her lose consciousness again; this time from fainting. Instead of giving into the syncope, she gritted her teeth and grabbed at the needle embedded in her arm. The powerful hand released her wrist to stop her before she could snatch out the needle.

"No, you mustn't!" he exclaimed in a forceful, booming voice, once again exhibiting a power he appeared physically unable to produce.

"But you're dying. I'm killing you," she said, her voice hitching as tears clogged her throat.

"I'm dying anyway, my dear," he assured her, giving her a sad smile of resignation. Letting go of her wrist, he patted the back of her hand that was lying on his bare forearm where the blood transferred from his body to hers. "I'm old. I've lived my life and completed my duty to God and man. This is my last grand gesture before I die. My act of martyrdom. Fitting for a Catholic priest, don't you think?"

"But I'm damned, doomed to hell. Why would you help such a creature as myself? Why waste your last sacrifice on me?" she inquired, receiving a smile that showed pity toward her. How could he pity her at a time like this when what little life he had was being sucked out of him by a godless creature?

"Who needs my help more than someone like you?" he asked her, raising his hand to stroke her cheek like a parent attempting to comfort a frightened child.

She had heard that quite recently from another priest. "Have you allowed your blind beliefs to mislead you like Father Anderson? Do you still think you can save me?"

"What do we have left if we lose every last bit of hope? There's always a chance for redemption. Perhaps you just have to find yours in a different way than what we subscribe to here."

"Maybe," she murmured, rolling onto her side toward him.

What would she be redeeming herself from? Giving up her mortal soul for the man she loved? He had given up his soul first leaving her with no other option but to do the same so she could be with him. Alucard had fulfilled her last wish, returning her to Father Anderson so her children would be safe. _Thank you, _she spoke in her mind, hoping the message would find its way to him through their bizarre psychic link. Tears pushed past the edges of her eyelids despite her attempt to hold them back. She did not want to be here, but she had no choice.

Willie opened her eyes when the old man started to pet her head to soothe her. She wondered how he could be so kind, willingly giving up what little remained of his life for her and going even further in his benevolence by comforting her while his was dying.

"You should know, I was not forced to do this. I'm doing this of my own volition," he informed her although he had already told her as much. If he was sacrificing his life of his own free will, he would not be sitting so docilely while dying, reaching out to her to dispel her sadness, anger, and fear.

"Stop hating yourself for what you are. I've met many humans along my journey through life that are far worse monsters than you could ever be," he told her as if he had been reading her thoughts.

Maybe he had read her mind since their blood had mixed. She had never questioned if the memory transfer worked in reverse for the person with whom they became intimately entwined with beyond the physical plane for a short period of time.

"Father Anderson is not the monster you think he is either," he added, surprising her with his frankness.

"How so?" she questioned him with genuine curiosity.

"He has a generous, loving nature that few people are allowed to see. He chooses to show only his heartless and cruel side especially to those he views as his enemies," he explained to her.

"I must be his enemy then." She squeezed the skeletal hand that held hers.

"Actually, no. His animosity is centered on Alucard, the one you so blindly love with all of your heart. I suppose it's a matter of guilt by association in the simplest terms. Please, don't hate him. He has righteous ambitions and strives to do what is good and beneficial for those he cares about. Sometimes he just uses the wrong methods to bring about the desired result."

"I'm sure you've heard the adage the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I have set many stones on my own path with ill designed aspirations. Although Father Anderson believes he is working toward the greater good, striving for loftier goals, he's no different than me and my kind, the godless heathens that he hates so desperately," she muttered with bitterness tainting her voice. "He threatened to kill my children if I did not return to assist him with those misappropriated ideals, chasing his own Holy grail of sorts."

"Mmmm, I see," the old man muttered thoughtfully.

"He plans on using me to hunt and kill supernatural creatures he deems as unholy or evil, enemies of God and man. Does the end always justify the means?"

"I would have to say no, my dear, which goes back to what I said earlier. He has admirable ideas but his methods to bring those goals to fruition are sometimes lacking," he reiterated. The old priest fell silent, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes as his head lolled a little to the side. "My end is near."

"I'm sorry," she apologized not knowing what else to say. She clutched the hand that was holding hers, the amazing strength of the man ebbing way with his life.

The door opened and Father Anderson came sweeping into the room. Around his neck he wore a deep purple colored silk stole over his light gray cassock. Gold crosses were embroidered above the gold fringe at the bottom edges of the long scarf that was part of a priestly garment for giving the last rites. He was holding a Bible in one hand and carrying a decorative glass bottle of anointing oil in the other hand. Uncapping the bottle with one hand, the teardrop shaped glass top hung from a small chain wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Covering the top with his forefinger, he tipped the bottle to coat his fingertip with the oil before marking the forehead of the dying priest with a cross. He set the bottle down on the table next to him and opened the Bible to an earmarked page that was tattered on the edges from frequent use.

Willie stayed silent, watching the ritual of the last rites with fascination. During her research to save Alucard, the Catholic religion had become a source of interest for her with its complicated rituals and strict doctrines that sometimes directly contradicted with the actions and personal morals of its greatest proponents. She sat up, scooting over to the edge of the bed when the dying man began to make the distinct wheezing sound of breathing his last few breaths. She carefully removed the needles from both of their arms, tossing the empty plastic tubing with the needles attached on the floor. Her skin sealed itself instantly. The priest did not bleed because the beating of his heart was not strong enough to pump the little blood remaining in his body to the surface of his skin any longer. Edging close to him, she wrapped her arms around his skinny shoulders to hold him so he would not die with only the comfort of the words being recited by Father Anderson to carry his soul to the afterlife.

"Thank you, my dear. I shall remember you in heaven," he whispered before allowing his last breath to vacate his body and taking his soul with it.

Willie closed her eyes, gasping when his soul swept past her face like a warm breeze. Tears noiselessly spilled down her cheeks while she continued to hold his dead body. Suddenly she was overtaken by shame because she had never even asked his name. "What was his name?"

"Father Leopold Garetti," Father Anderson answered with a tenderness that surprised her. "He came to this church as a young man and stayed here all of his life. Throughout his days, he taught many priests, including myself, numerous lessons about life and the people we would encounter during this life. He was a wise, kind man."

"I could tell," she responded, unhinging her arms from around him carefully when Father Anderson started to pull the body away from her.

"I need to take his body to be prepared for burial. The funeral will be held three days from now. You're welcome to attend if you like," he invited her, gently lifting the body of the dead man into his arms as if it might break.

"Thank you. I believe I will," she responded, moving back onto the bed to lie down.

"Father Anderson, I'm here!" a young man announced, rushing into the room and almost barrelling into the priest. He held up the tray he was carrying, sidestepping the priest awkwardly to avoid a collision. Spinning around on one foot, he miraculously avoided dumping the crystal decanter of wine and thin stemmed wine glass from the tray.

Witnessing the graceful movement was like watching a ballet dancer execute a flawless Pirouette à la seconde. The man was in early twenties with short, pale blond hair that stood up straight from the top of his head and eyes that were a bright, iridescent blue. Willie stared at the young man, overcome with a sense of familiarity as if she knew him. He reminded her of someone dear to her. The stunning revelation hit her like a punch in the gut knocking the air out of her. She covered her mouth to keep from screaming when she recalled that this was exactly how Gannon looked the very first time she had seen him. On that day, they had marched out to battle together for the first time after both swearing fealty to Vlad Tepes and promising to protect him with their weapons and their lives. She had no idea then just how much that young general would mean to her later in their lives.

"Slow down, Noah! You're far too old to be running down the halls like a child!" Father Anderson chastised the young man.

"Sorry, Sir, sorry. Oh!" he gasped as if just noticing the dead body in the priest's arms. He did not seem shocked by the presence of the deceased priest; only embarrassed that he had not paid proper respects. He bowed his head like he was going to pray, making the sign of the cross over his body. He picked up the silver cross laying against the front his white dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He kissed the crossed then held it up as if making an offering of his condolences for the departed soul.

Willie was enchanted not only by his appearance that was so similar to her beloved Gannon but by his actions. He did not act like a typical priest. He was nervous, unsure of himself, every movement speaking of his deeply ingrained unease. She detected that he did not feel comfortable here. Whether it was from not wanting to be near her or Father Anderson, she was not sure. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that he did not want to be a priest or a part of the church at all. Whatever his reason for feeling discomfiture, she not really care. Her own reasons for not wanting to be here dominated her mind. She was a compliant prisoner in basic terms. Was he to be her personal guard in this cell?

"I'm counting on you to take care of her," he addressed the blonde in an even voice that carried a veiled threat. Anderson's attention turned to her, his vivid green eyes stern when he intercepted her line of vision. "This is Noah Landon. He's an apprentice priest and not a very good one. He's volunteered for the task of taking care of you. It is his duty to fulfill all of your wishes and to make sure you are kept safe and comfortable. Whatever you need, you are to take it from him."

"What are you getting at, Father? Tell me plainly," she demanded, glimpsing at Noah whose gaze was latched firmly onto the Italian hand made rug under his feet. She glared at Anderson, silently demanding that he give her a clear answer without mincing words.

"He's your servant. He's your blood donor. He's your lover. Whatever you need him to be, he's yours."

Willie could feel the heat of a blush induced by humiliation and anger creeping up her face. She could not shake the suspicion the priest had purposely picked someone who so closely resembled Gannon to torture her. Surely there had been other, less nervous and awkward volunteers - and ones who did not look like her husband reincarnated. But then again, maybe not. Babysitting a vampire, allowing that vampire to ritualistically drain their blood, could not be high on the list of desired jobs. Her eyes flitted back to Noah who had turned nearly purple with embarrassment and appeared ready to faint.

"It is his job to provide for you, Willene. He understood completely what the job entailed before I made my final decision. Now, I must go," he proclaimed, exiting the room with Father Garetti's body.

"Noah," she called, seeing his head snap up as if he had been spooked by the sound of her voice.

"Y-yes, ma'am!" he exclaimed apprehensively without moving from where he stood.

"Don't be frightened. I won't hurt you. Come here," she beckoned him, patting the bed beside her.

"I-I br-brought s-something f-for y-you," he stuttered helplessly, the glass items clinking against the silver tray due to his uncontrollable shaking.

Willie observed him without saying a word while he poured the wine from the decanter. She resisted the urge to help him, to steady his hands, when the burgundy colored liquid sloshed over the side of the glass and spilled onto the tray. Her hands reached for the glass before he could pick it up and risk spilling it on her. She did not like to drink wine, and she certainly did not want to wear it. However, since he had poured the wine for her in a gesture of kindness, she would drink it. In hopes of assuaging his nervousness, she raised the glass to her lips. There was a slight metallic tang and salty undertone to the liquid. Unable to stop herself from imbibing the drink, she gulped it down with greedy, audible swallows until the glass was empty. Extending the glass toward him, she almost begged, "More, please."

Noah looked pleased, picking up the heavy cut crystal bottle. His grip was more steady this time, and he poured with confidence without spilling. He watched her drink, a happy grin thinning his full dark pink lips. Dutifully he waited to see if she requested a third refill, remaining standing at the side of the bed. Once she had finished off her third glass, he released a breath that he seemed to have been holding for some time.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, finally feeling comfortable enough to sit down on the bed beside her. His fingers stroked across the bandage that circled his wrist. "I mixed my own blood with that wine for you."

Willie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, setting the glass down on the table. The mixture affected her like alcohol once did before she attained a supernatural status. The drink made her lightheaded and her body a little numb, but she felt invigorated and energetic as well. Leaning back against the pillow behind her, she sighed deeply with satisfaction. Her body felt light as if she were floating ever so slightly, and she closed her eyes to savor the relaxing sensation.

"Thank you," she murmured without opening her eyes. She could feel him staring at her which raised goosebumps over her entire body. Every muscle in her body tensed when she sensed his hand hovering over her arm. His touch startled her, causing her to jump and her eyes to fly open when his fingertips massaged her forearm inches below where the needle had been removed. She did not protest when he flattened his smooth palm against her skin, gliding it down her arm to her hand. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch. Although his hand was no longer on her, her arm retained a warmth sapped from his skin.

"It's amazing _You're_ amazing," he murmured, reaching toward her face. When she turned away to avoid his touch, his cheeks flamed with embarrassment upon becoming aware of his actions. "I-I'm s-sorry," he apologized, getting up from the bed. "I'm just curious. You're not what I expected at all."

_Neither are you, _she thought to herself, still a bit mesmerized by how much he looked and sounded like a young Gannon. "What did you expect?"

"I thought you would be scary and ugly. Cold. Like a dead person." He glanced down at his hand, rubbing his other palm across it. "But you're warm to the touch. Polite. Kind. And beautiful. You're like a real human being."

"Hmmm," she hummed to herself, resisting the urge to be offended. He was not intentionally being rude by speaking so candidly. "I was a _real_ human once. I don't know what Father Anderson has taught you about creatures such as myself, but I'm sure he has gotten a few things wrong." She pressed her back into the pillows in a futile retreat when he rushed toward her to take her hands in his.

"Oh, no, no, no! It wasn't anything he said. It was silly assumptions I made on my own," he assured her, releasing her hands once again becoming aware of his brazenness. He turned his back to her as if to hide the shame he had caused himself due to his continual acting without thinking. "I apologize for my boldness. I'm being far too rude, treating a lady such as yourself inappropriately."

"I can say with confidence that this is a situation neither one of us has been in before so it would be natural that we aren't sure how to act appropriately. Besides, I'm not the fair, coddled lady you seem to think I am," she scoffed, issuing a snort of self-derision.

"How should I address you, ma'am?" he asked, slowly turning around toward her but keeping his eyes on the floor.

"You may call me Willie if you like. Please refrain from calling me ma'am," she requested.

"Anything else?" His eyes gradually raised to meet hers.

"I would like to be alone. I'm extremely tired. Thank you, Noah."

"Yes, ma'am, uh, Willie," he corrected himself quickly before taking his leave.

Willie turned off the lamp to lay in the darkness. She wanted the massive, devastating tornado of emotion sweeping through her to cease. Her body was weary and ready for rest but her brain was busy attempting to make sense of the events that had transpired so quickly after her awakening. The unexpected introduction of Noah Landon into her life had been upsetting to say the least. That was only an addition to the other disconcerting things already happening.

"I have to make it stop," she whispered to herself, getting up from the bed.

Unwilling to permit herself to wallow in self-pity, Willie went to the window throwing back the tapestries that blocked every bit of light out of the room. She sighed with relief to see that it was nighttime. Unlatching the tall stained glass window, she pushed it open to gaze upon the full moon that had been skewed by the multi faceted colored glass. In times of distress, when she was too distraught to cry and too confused to understand what was happening to her, Gannon had always encouraged her to howl to release everything. Climbing onto the window ledge, she sank back on her haunches with her fingers curled into fists in front of her knees taking the stance of the gypsy werewolves when they prepared to offer their voices to moon above. Tipping back her head and closing her eyes, she opened her mouth and projected her voice toward the pale, round goddess of the werewolves. She yowled until her throat was dry and sore, her voice becoming scratchy and grating to her own ears. A few domesticated dogs in the distance responded to her cries but no werewolves. Hearing no familiar voices magnified her sadness and loneliness. Lingering in the window, she listened to the music of the crickets and frogs that was occasionally interrupted by a random bark from a family pet.

A soft knock on the door startled her. Willie jumped from the window ledge, hurriedly closing and locking the window. She left the tapestries open though to allow the moonlight to filter through the glass.

"May I come in?" Father Anderson inquired from the other side of the door.

"Do I have a choice?" she responded curtly standing stiffly in front of the window.

"Yes. You can choose not to allow me into your room. I haven't taken all of your freedom from you," he returned without opening the door. "I certainly won't intrude upon your modesty either."

Willie's anger melted away upon hearing the nearly undetectable current of hurt rippling under his voice. He was being nice. Dammit! He wasn't supposed to be nice after taking her prisoner. Crossing her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes and reminded herself that she was supposed to be furious with him. However, the old strings from their past pulled at her heart.

"Fine. Come in then," she snapped, waiting for him to enter before speaking again. "What do you want, Father? It's late and I'm tired so if you will please make this quick, it would be greatly appreciated."

"I wanted to check on you. That's all. Are you all right?" He stood beside the door with his hands folded behind his back.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" She shrugged nonchalantly. The atmosphere was strained. The civility forced.

"I heard you howling. I could hear the pain and sadness in your voice. It - " He ceased speaking because his voice had grown thick and hoarse. He cleared his throat before continuing. His hand rubbed over his chest where his heart was located. "It hurt clear down to my soul. I could feel what you were feeling."

"Really?" she questioned him, incredulity obvious in her tone.

"Don't forget, Vlad's blood run through me. He's a part of me. Therefore in turn, that makes you a part of me because your blood was also in him."

Willie shivered. She had not considered that before. Hearing it out loud from Anderson's lips made the revelation extremely disturbing and downright unnerving.

"But don't forget, I already had emotional ties to you before I took his blood," he said, moving toward her cautiously like one would approach a skittish animal.

"How could I forget that we were friends? That has made everything you've done since hurt so much more." Despite the apprehension rising inside of her, she remained steadfast raising her chin defiantly while refusing to show fear when he neared her.

"I won't apologize for any of my actions nor my words. I regret nothing." He ceased moving toward her when he was within arm's reach of her.

"That makes one of us. I'm drowning in regrets, Father, and not just where you're concerned." Her eyes flashed in the darkness briefly reflecting off of the lenses of his glasses.

"How do you like Noah?" He smiled down at her with the same kind of sinister, dark grin he had given her during their confrontation in the church when he had blackmailed her to return to him. She knew she would have to become accustomed to that ominous smile.

"Did you do it on purpose? Were you intentionally being cruel?"

"Actually, no. I thought choosing a helper that looked like your dead husband would assuage the grief that still burdens you. I can send him away and bring someone else for you."

"No. It's fine. He's attentive and accommodating. Did you tell him to add his blood to the wine?"

"He did what?" the priest gasped, his eyes widening to fit the shape of the round spectacles in front of them.

Father Anderson's shock told her that the idea of the blood had solely belonged to Noah. Willie smiled. She really did like the young man. He had been pleasant and thoughtful in their brief interaction. He seemed to be sincere, kind-hearted, and genuinely innocent, having no ill will toward her.

"If there's nothing else, Father Anderson..." she prompted him, her words hanging in the air as a polite invitation to leave.

"Yes, well, I shall be going then. Perhaps on another night we can have tea and one of our talks like we used to," he said, crossing the room and reaching the door quickly.

"I don't know, Father. I'm not one to forgive easily," she said. A rush of nostalgia, a sharp, unexpected longing for the relationship they used to have, caused her to experience a genuine desire to have one of their special visits like they did centuries ago when they were still true friends.

"Humph," he mumbled, his smile morphing into one of sincerity. He smiled like this when he was that young, country priest in another life. "You're a terrible liar. You forgive far too much and too easily. At least where Vlad is concerned. Maybe I am undeserving of your forgiveness. But in my opinion, so was he."

Willie sighed in annoyance, turning her back to him to avoid looking at hm. At the moment, she was torn between hugging him and clawing his eyes out. If she could forgive Vlad, surely she could forgive him. Suddenly, she was weighed down by weariness so profound she thought she might fall into another hibernation. When he did not make a move to leave, she murmured, "Good night, Father."

Willie listened to his retreating footsteps. The door hinges did not make a sound when he opened the door. While there was still a sliver of light shining into the darkness through the crack of the almost closed door, he told her, "Good night, your highness."


	29. Chapter 29

"My lady," Noah called while knocking softly on her door. "It's time to go."

Willie put on her hat, pulling the thick veil of black lace over her face to hide it. She did not want people staring at her throughout the funeral. Surprisingly, even to her, she had not cried since the day Father Garetti died. Anger, deep seated and powerful, had prevented her from doing so. She was no longer content to be so accepting of her circumstances that always seemed to be beyond her control. The last few days had been spent thinking, reflecting on her life, particularly on her present.

She had stubbornly remained in her room, steadfastly refusing to leave for any reason. Noah had faithfully visited her, bringing her the wine infused with his own blood. He had attempted to engage her in conversation only to receive clipped one word answers or mute replies given by a shake of the head or a nod of confirmation. Patiently, he continued to talk to her, telling her about himself.

Noah had been an orphan left to die on the streets in Ireland when Father Anderson found him. He was brought to live at the orphanage the priest ran there. He had taken to the man as if he were an actual father, assisting with everyday duties such as cooking and cleaning and attending to the other children. Eventually Father Anderson allowed him to help with compiling information into books about creatures Noah had only heard about in scary stories told by the older boys at the orphanage. At first he had thought they were only story books, but one night, when he was supposed to be sleeping, he discovered those fabled beings were all too real. He had awakened in the middle of the night to hear a commotion outside. Following the sound of growling and whining that was almost drowned out by the hypnotic drone of many voices joined in prayer, he found Father Anderson and several other priests surrounding what looked to be a massive wild dog. The hulking beast was standing on two legs, its claws and teeth glinted like knives in the moonlight. Its white fur was matted with blood. The terrible creature's wrists and ankles were shackled, the chains held securely by four priests to it keep him from attacking them. They were performing a ritual to destroy it. After much chanting and many prayers, all of which seemed to be useless and having no effect at all, Father Anderson had drawn one of his Blessed Blades and stabbed the werewolf through the heart. It had terrified and fascinated Noah to watch the large wolf like creature die then slowly transform back into a human being.

That was when Willie had learned that Father Anderson was grooming Noah to take his place, to be the destroyer of evil and the guardian of what he believed to be a sacred duty. So he thought of Noah as a son. How ironic. The man with a God complex was sending his son to be a sacrifice to the demons on earth, all in hopes of bringing down his arch enemy. A similar story was told in the Bible of the God he served so faithfully and His son. The parallels were almost unbearable. She wondered if the narcissistic priest had made the connection. Doubtfully. He still thought everything he believed to be true and everything he did to be blameless and ordained by heaven. Stupid, stupid man.

"Willie!" Noah cried, banging harder on the door.

"I'm coming," she responded, smoothing down the front of her black dress that skimmed across the floor giving her appearance of floating. The dress was dowdy and plain, covering her from her chin to her toes and down to her wrists. With her hat in place and the veil lowered, the only skin that showed was that on her hands. She was not looking forward to the sad occasion, but she wanted to honor the memory of the priest, Father Garetti, who had brought her back from the bottomless abyss. Although she could not help think it would have been better for everyone, especially her, if he had left her there. Turning the knob, she opened the door, and announced, "I'm ready."

"My lady," Noah said, offering her his arm to escort her.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that." She threaded her arm through his, allowing him to lead her down the hall.

"Why not? I'm showing you the respect you deserve."

"I don't deserve your respect. I'm a monster who deserves to live in the shadows, hidden far away from humans. I shouldn't be here." My lady was also how Gannon had referred to her at first rather than by her name, and it unnerved her to be called that by someone else. The fact that he looked just Gannon only added to her dismay.

"Well, Father Anderson doesn't believe you're evil. He believes you can be used for the greater good, to defeat the ones who are evil."

"Used," she murmured, grasping her skirt to raise the hem to descend a flight stairs. "I'm not sure if I'm good or evil. Honestly, at this point in my life, I don't care. I've done what I've had to do to survive and protect my family. I've killed people you know."

"So have I," he confessed, staring straight ahead.

"Oh?"

"I told you he's been training me. I've actually killed werewolves and vampires and ghouls. They were all human once. Just like you. To me, you're still human."

"Hmmm," she muttered thoughtfully. _And you are a fool, _her inner voice said but she refused to persecute him aloud. _A trusting, naive fool. I feel sorry for you. _"So does that make you evil? You've killed those who were once human. But I suppose Father Anderson's definition of good or evil changes depending on who its in reference to."

Willie cast a sidelong glimpse at him to see the blush that had spread across his cheeks. Silly boy. Maybe he had no real opinion at all on things and followed the priest and his teachings with the same blind faith Father Anderson employed himself. At the bottom of the stairs, Willie turned to him, raising the veil to reveal her face. Her eyes captured his before she spoke. "One day, you will see the monster in me. You will see what I really am. Then you will hate me."

"I could never - "

"We should be leaving," Father Anderson interrupted, emerging from the open door of the room behind Noah.

"Yes, Father," Noah agreed, placing his hand on Willie's elbow to lead her out of the front door of the house behind the tall priest.

Willie glanced up at the leaden sky filled with clouds varying in shades of gray from the light silvery gray like the color of her dead husband's werewolf eyes to the dark, foreboding gray that warned of the impending storm. At least the weather was appropriate for such a sad occasion. A sunny, cloudless sky would have been too cheery as if mocking them in their mourning. She replaced her veil to once again shield her face from curious eyes as they walked across the lawn from the house to the church where people were gathering.

Upon entering the front doors of the church, the bells started to peal as if beckoning mourners to come inside for the service that was about to begin. There were many people already in the church, priests and nuns along with parishioners who had sat through sermons given by Father Garetti. Some of those people had probably received life changing counsel from him. Despite the numerous attendees, everyone was silent. Not a word was spoken by anyone. The only sound to be heard was the shuffling of feet from people filing into the sanctuary and the rustle of clothing when people dipped down to one knee to bow and make the sign of the cross over their body before taking their seat.

Father Anderson led Willie and Noah to the front, directing them to sit on the first pew on the left directly in front of the pulpit and positioned diagonally from the coffin. The coffin was painted a shiny black with gleaming silver handles on the side and a massive silver cross on the top.

This was so different from the funerals she was accustomed to. As gypsies, they burned their dead, allowing their bodies to return to dust and be scattered on the winds or waters to return them immediately to the earth. As a soldier, she had watched the bodies of her enemies and her comrades alike being burned on the battlefield. They were sent to the afterlife with flames to purge them of their sins and to purify their bodies while releasing their spirit to go to heaven.

This was new to her. There had been no wooden boxes or buildings or big gathering of softly weeping mourners who might or might not be sincere in their tears. Those who mourned at the funerals she had attended, had wailed and sobbed, pouring out their grief and rage at the loss of their beloved; or they had quietly looked on, sometimes in happiness and in relief, that their foe had met their demise or that their suffering friends no longer had to endure pain. But then some, who had no interest in the departed, had simply walked away. All of this seemed contrived, as if they were making a show to each other, rather than a sincere gathering of grieving individuals. Perhaps she was being too judgmental because it had been too long since she had been human, and she had forgotten what it was like to be one.

Stealing covert glances at the people around her from under her veil, Willie began to question where the true evil resided. Did it lie inside of her and her kind? Or within common man, the pitiful humans surrounding her? After all, what had created her other than the greed and selfishness that lay in the heart of a man? She did not realize her hands that lay folded in her lap were trembling until Noah covered them one of his big hands.

"It's all right," he whispered to her.

No, it wasn't. Things had not been all right for a very long time. They had been all wrong. Her life had always been out of her control. She had always been pushed and pulled by outward forces that she could not escape. Tears slid down her cheeks, but she left them unchecked. She was grieving but not for the poor man in the casket. Even he had been selfish as he had told her when he readily admitted his motivation for sacrificing himself was an effort to save her soul and acquire a sainthood for himself. Humans were awful, self-centered beings. At least as animals, demons, or monsters or whatever the humans chose to call them, they learned how to live and love beyond themselves. Not that they were not given to bouts of selfishness. Alucard stood as a testament to that fact just as she did at the moment thinking of no one but herself. She was not listening to Father Anderson while he prattled on about the positive attributes of Father Leopold Garetti, of the sacrifices he made, and the ways he made other people's lives better.

The rage that had seized her days ago welled up inside of her, hardening her heart and flooding the deepest depths of her being. All at once, she felt physically tired from being weary of doing the right thing. She had permitted herself to be led and used by others. She had become an unintentional martyr by being sacrificed time and time again for what she thought was the right thing. Perhaps she had more in common with Father Anderson than she cared to admit. That realization offended and infuriated her.

Raising her head, she glared at the man in the pulpit who was praying for the acceptance into heaven of the everlasting soul of the dead man. There was no reason to pray for his soul. It was gone. It had left three days ago. She knew this without a doubt because she had felt it when it vacated his body just as she had felt her husband's spirit one last time when his soul passed through her at his death.

When Father Anderson opened his eyes, they connected immediately with her fiery gaze despite it being obscured by the veil. She believed that he could sense her anger before he saw her eyes and that was why he had looked directly at her. A spark that she believed to be fear, ignited in his green eyes, then instantly disappeared. One day, she would give him a reason to fear her. She would make him regret what he had done to her. She vowed to make him pay for what he had done to those like her. And if she wasn't damned already, she would be if she allowed him to kill Alucard.


	30. Chapter 30

Willie was sitting on the wide windowsill looking out of the window she had opened only half way. The sun shone brightly bathing everything in its warming yellow rays. The grass and trees were an astonishing shade of green, intense and jewel toned in their hue. A stream wound its way around the outskirts of the property like a thin blue ribbon. This place could be a little part of heaven on earth if she did not feel like she were being tortured in hell. She could no longer count the times she had been ripped from the arms of her beloved, to be left alone and miserable. To make things worse, she had been cut off from her children as well. Although she believed they would probably be in more danger if she went to visit them than if she stayed far away, knowing that she was protecting them did nothing to diminish her pain of being separated from them. She wrapped her arms around her legs to pull her knees up to her chest. Balancing her chin on one knee, she continued to stare outside at the expansive property wishing she could be in another place - and time. She should have died centuries upon centuries ago, yet she was still here.

"Why? Why must I remain to be tortured so?" she asked herself out loud.

"Because of one bad decision that seemed to be the right one at the time," a voice answered behind her.

Willie recognized Noah's voice immediately. It had imprinted itself on her brain as quickly as the image of his handsome face had forever become a part of her memory. He reminded her so much of Gannon her chest ached whenever he was around because she could not forget the other greatest love of her life.

"It was a rhetorical question. No answer was required," she returned irritably. She was busy wallowing in self-pity and did not want his annoyingly good-natured interference.

Willie flinched when he came near but never turned her head to look at him. She did not have to see him to know he was staring at her with that same expression of pity in his unassuming blue eyes that she always saw when he looked at her. There was no justification for his unnecessary sentiment of sorrowful compassion. If anything, she felt sorry for him, being stuck under the watchful eye and domineering supervision of Father Alexander Anderson.

"Is that how you feel about your decision to pursue the priesthood?" she questioned him pointedly. "And other less charitable Christian endeavors in your attempt to be like your revered Father Anderson?"

"You hate him, don't you?"

"Why shouldn't I? Shall I count the reasons for you?"

"You're very outspoken. Not one to mince words or worry about useless things like hurting other people's feelings," he said, dropping down heavily onto the sill beside her.

"It's one of my more attractive personality traits. Or so I've been told."

"You're like a grumpy old woman," he laughed lightly.

The sound of his genuine laughter took away the bitter edge of the anger and regret surging through her mind. Her body actually cramped from the tension caused by being spiteful and choleric. However, she clung tightly to the emotions to keep them close so she would not be tempted to care for him. There was no way she would allow herself to feel anything for Father Anderson again either. He had hurt her, betrayed her. When she believed there was nothing worse he could do to her, he used a threat of violence and death against her children to force her to help him. That was simply unforgivable and far worse than any of Vlad's transgressions in her mind.

"I am an old woman," she reminded him, allowing a small smile to play across her lips. How old would she be now? Nearly five hundred years old by this time she estimated. However, the curse of immortality had granted her the gift of everlasting youth and beauty - as long as she drank the blood required to stay that way.

"I suppose so. I have a tendency to forget how old you really are because you look as young as I am." He paused speaking, pushing open the window further so they could both see outside.

"You must remember, things are not always as they appear to be. Keep that in mind if you want to stay alive."

When the sunlight touched the bare skin of her arm, Willie pulled her arm to her chest and started to scream. She dropped to the floor, rolling around as if in agony.

"Oh, my God! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Noah yelled, launching himself onto the floor to cover her body and acting as a human shield to protect her from the light.

Willie covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter. He was kind and naive to a fault. Father Anderson had apparently kept the boy quite sheltered in many ways. It had been mean of her to play such a terrible joke on him, but she could not help herself. Apparently, being trapped here and hiding her rage was driving her crazy. Her body vibrated under him with the laughter she could barely restrain. Soon she was giggling openly while the young man tried to hide her from the sun.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice edged with alarm. He sat up, quickly checking her body that was completely unharmed. And she was laughing. "What? Why are you..." He sat back on his haunches, staring at the woman lying on the floor who chuckled maniacally. "Why are you laughing?"

"I'm sorry. I know it was cruel." She ceased laughing instantly, growing extremely serious. Her hand extended toward him, her fingertips drifting across his cheek. His skin was silky like that of her children when they were babies. He was nothing more than a child himself. Guilt joined the rest of the emotions that were already choking her. When her eyes met his, she gave him a smile of apology with quivering lips. "You're so sweet and trusting." Sadness overwhelmed her unexpectedly bringing tears to her eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Tears flowed copiously down her face, creating wet trails that crisscrossed her cheeks and dripped from her chin or coursed down her neck to soak the high collar of the bland peach colored dress she was wearing. Unable to withhold her sorrow, she opened her mouth and released a squawk of a sob. Without a word, Noah pulled her into his arms, holding her while she cried.

"It's okay. It was just a joke. I'm just glad you weren't really hurt," he said, embracing her to soothe her.

"I hate being here! I hate being what I am! I hate being away from children! I hate that the ones I love keep being taken away from me! I hate...I hate...I hate..." she moaned woefully, her words trailing off into a mournful wail that rose into a scream of unbridled resentment. But he never let her go. Instead, his arms tightened around her until she thought he might crush her. "I hate Father Anderson. I hate him," she croaked, burying her face into the tear soaked front of Noah's white dress shirt.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry these things keep happening to you and that you feel the way you do," he murmured. He ran his hand from the top of her head down her back to where her hair ended at her waist.

Although he was petting her like a dismal, pathetic animal, Willie took comfort the gesture of kindness. Her fingers uncurled, releasing the fistfuls of his shirt she had been clutching as if he was the only thing keeping her tethered to what remained of her sanity. Her palms flattened against his chest to feel the steady thrumming of his heart. Each beat reverberated through his body and under her hands. He was so young, so strong, and so alive. The flow of his blood through his veins was like listening to a rushing stream as the water tumbled over grass and rocks. She tilted her head upward, her lips grazing the skin above his unbuttoned collar. Every muscle in her body tightened with excitement when he trembled. She could not recall the last time she had taken blood from a living, breathing human by biting them. Her shaking fingers went to the buttons of his shirt to loose them.

"What are you doing?" Noah gasped, putting his hands over hers when she unbuttoned the second button.

"You're supposed to be my everything, aren't you? Including a human sacrifice?" She pushed aside his shirt, exposing his collarbone and shoulder on his left side where his heart was located.

"Yes," he whispered, sliding his hand up her arm to her face. He cupped her jaw with in his palm, raising her face to see her eyes. Her irises bore iridescent flecks of green and gold with an underlying soft glow of green. Despite being afraid of her, he felt the need to offer himself to her because she had captured him with her mesmerizing gaze. "I'm yours. Take me as you wish."

"Noah, this is going to hurt. It will hurt a lot. I'm sorry," she apologized, barely able to maintain contact with his guileless, innocent blue eyes.

"Do what you have to do to live. That is my purpose for being here with you," he told her, closing his eyes.

"I need your strength. Through you, I will be strong." She pressed her lips to his for a chaste kiss to express her gratitude and her remorse. "I really am sorry."

Willie put one arm around his waist to hold his body close to hers while she gripped his shoulder with her other hand. Lowering her lips to his collarbone at the base of his neck, she opened her mouth in preparation to bite him. Her teeth ached when they lengthened to sink into his smooth, flawless flesh. Her mouth watered in anticipation of the taste of his blood. She had tasted his blood many times before mixed with wine. To draw it straight from his body, warm and thick, would be a far more heady experience than any alcoholic beverage she had ever consumed in her life.

Her lips pressed to his warm, silky skin making him inhale sharply. She held him tighter as his body stiffened in readiness for the coming pain. Her teeth pierced his skin and entered the artery which pumped blood into her waiting mouth. She greedily sucked up the precious, life giving fluid that tasted salty and sweet, coating her tongue thickly before flowing down her throat to her belly. Heat penetrated her, warming every fiber of her being. Comfort and satisfaction, for her mind and body, filled her from head to toe. Oh, dear god, what was this man? He was like a drug, an anesthetic to numb her pain.

Reluctantly, before she killed him by taking too much blood, Willie lifted her mouth from his neck. The memories she had experienced from him were pleasant, enjoyable ones. Although his childhood had not been ideal, he had been a happy little boy. Naturally, there was a period of sadness and loss when his parents died, and he found himself alone. But then the joy when Father Alexander had found him and had taken him in had been enough to bring tears of happiness to her eyes to replace the melancholy ones. Helping the priest care for the others at the orphanage had given him a sense of purpose, a reason to live, which led him to make the decision to enter the priesthood and to follow in the footsteps of the priest he admired. His memories had shut off just as an image of the night of his first encounter with the supernatural started to form in her mind's eye. She could see from his perspective, through his eyes, as he had ran toward the frightening noises in the night. At a distance, she could see the wavering outlines of men dressed in black priest's garb and the dim light of torches. It was cold and raining, the drops felt like tiny pieces of ice on her skin. The lingering sensations and foggy sights faded away as she withdrew her fangs and licked her lips.

Willie closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the pleasing warmth that swirled in her belly and heated her veins as his blood flowed through them. Her heart beat fast and hard in her chest. She winced when she felt his hand gently cupping her face again. Her eyes opened to look at the man she held in her arms. His eyes were half closed and unfocused while he struggled to hold onto consciousness.

"Are you all right?" she asked, brushing her fingertips across his cheek again.

"I'll be okay," he assured her, his voice weak and breathy.

"Did I hurt you too much?"

"Not too much."

She knew he was lying, but it did not matter.

"You are a brave man. Or a stupid one. I'm not sure which."

"Me either." He smiled at her like a man drunk on cheap liquor; a wide, toothy, ridiculous grin.

Willie held him, cradling him in her arms as if he were a child. To her, he was a child. Suddenly, his eyes cleared and focused on hers, delving deeply into them like he was searching for something. His close scrutiny made her feel nervous, exposed and naked, unable to hide anything from him. Willie lowered her eyes to break the connection between them.

"What's happened to you?" he questioned her, sitting up on his own to loosen her arms from around his body.

"Nothing. Why would you ask?" She stood up, leaving him on the floor. Moving close to the window, she kept her back to him. "I told you that I was a monster."

"That's not it. You're hurt. Angry. I don't like your eyes now. They are hard and cold. Dead," he stated with a degree of harshness that gave the word an almost palpable presence like the metaphorical elephant in the room.

"Maybe I've just finally woken up from a very long, very bad dream. All these centuries I've been manipulated and controlled without really doing anything about it. I've let myself be a victim of circumstance for far too long. Is it a bad thing that I've decided to take control of my life?"

"No. It's never bad to want to determine what happens to you. But..." His voice weakened, and he inhaled deeply sounding exhausted. "But don't let the anger drive you mad or change you."

Willie moved back to him, taking him by the hand to pull him to his feet. She hooked her arm around his waist to hold him up while laying his arm across her shoulders so he could hang on to her. Taking him to the bed, she sat him down on the edge where he slumped forward, his forehead pressing to her chest above her breasts.

"I apologize. I'm not being forward. I'm tired. So tired," he mumbled, his words barely audible.

"I know," she patiently replied, encompassing his shoulders with her arms. She lowered his upper body onto his side, placing his head on the pillow, before bending down to pick up his feet to put them onto the bed. "With a little rest and a good meal, you'll be just fine. You should sleep now."

Willie spun on her heel to walk to walk away, but her retreat was halted when Noah grabbed her wrist.

"Thank you," he said when she glanced down at him.

"Don't thank me," she snapped in a gruffer tone than she meant to use. She pulled her wrist from his limp grasp, adding in a softer voice,"It's my fault you're like this."

"I told you it was fine. That's what I'm here for. Don't forget I volunteered for this assignment."

"Exactly why would you do such a thing? This seems like a job no one would want unless they were forced to do it."

"Because I..." His voice dissipated into a light snore indicating he had fallen asleep.

"It doesn't matter anyway," she muttered to herself. She leaned over him, lowering her face close to his. "I won't let you in. I won't care for you at all. I can't allow myself to."

"It's probably best for him that you don't care for him. I hope he's not stupid enough to develop deep feelings for you either. Every man that has any feelings for you usually finds himself in a big mess at some point," Father Anderson said. His wide body filled the door frame from one side to the other before he casually strolled into the room.

"Does that include you?" she retorted acerbically, straightening her body.

"Of course it does. I speak with the voice of experience. That's why I no longer feel anything for you. Call it a matter of self-defense. I understand your sentiment to just completely shut off feeling anything. Emotions are useless. They get in the way and make us weak."

"I just don't want to see him get hurt."

"Neither do I." Father Anderson looked down at her. He circled her like a carnivore examining its prey before coming to stand directly in front of her. "Are you sure you don't already care for him?"

"Is there something you need to discuss, Father?" she demanded to change the subject.

He glanced at the young man lying on the bed sleeping peacefully. "You gave into temptation faster than I thought you would."

"I'm a reprehensible, sinful creature. I can't help but give in to my inherent base urges. I'm a vampire. No longer human and barely above the animals. Isn't that what you think?"

Father Anderson's eyes narrowed while he leaned down to study her more closely. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Was there something - "

"Ah, yes," he interrupted her, rubbing his stubble covered chin. He straightened up and turned his back to her. "There is something of great importance I want to ask you. Would you like to see your children?"

His question caught her off guard. Her mouth dropped open while she stared at his back mutely. How dare he play such callous, hateful mind games with her.

"I can take you to them if you wish to go," he said, revolving to face her when she continued to be silent. "Well, do you want to visit them or not?"

"I do. But I could put them in danger by going there."

"I told you I have men protecting them. They're safe."

"Yes, I want to see them," she said almost breathless with excitement over the possibility of seeing her children.

"Fine. Then we will take a little trip," he proclaimed, walking away from her. "By the way, that anger you're harboring will come in handy. Hold on to that. Don't let it go until you can unleash it on a proper recipient."

"I hate you," she announced, so calmly that she could hardly believe she had actually spoken the words. She took a step back when the priest only looked back over his shoulder at her with a smile on his face.

"Hate me if you must. I don't care. But forgive Father Garetti. He sincerely cared for you. And look where that got him. In a grave. He's not the first man who loved you who has died."

His statements hit Willie like a sledgehammer in the belly. In an effort to withhold a severe emotional reaction, she widened her stance to steady herself. She chewed the inside of her mouth until she drew her own blood, and her inner cheek bore the texture of ground meat. However, she could not stop her fingernails from lengthening into claws due to her desire to attack him. The intricate web of black veins appeared under pale skin as well despite her stubborn will to stem a visible response.

"I always knew you could become a proper, heartless killer. All that needed to happen was for the right switch to be flipped."

"Get out," Willie commanded him in a snarl, exposing her lethal fangs that had erupted from her top and bottom jaws. "Please, leave before I can't stop myself."

She kept her feet rooted to the floor until he finally closed the door securely behind him. Falling onto all fours, she panted for air while her body shuddered from the near loss of control. The only thing that had kept her from killing him was the knowledge that if she gave into her urge to rip him to pieces, her children would die. She was too close to seeing them again to allow herself to give into the resentment and loathing she had been battling for eons.


	31. Chapter 31

Willie was standing at her window gazing down at the stream. The moonlight glimmered off of the slightly rippling water giving the illusion that a thousand tiny diamonds sparkled on the bottom. She wanted to be by that water, in it. The melodic gurgling would soothe her frazzled nerves while the flowing water cooled her skin.

Closing her eyes, she recalled a night centuries ago at a stream. Vlad found her there when she was bathing to wash off the dust and gore of the day's skirmish. She wanted to rid herself of the filthy memory of battle that could not be rinsed away so easily. He had enabled her to forget. There, in that stream, he had told her that he loved her for the first time. That confession was the shining memory that remained with her through the years.

Willie opened her eyes to see that she was standing beside the stream she had been staring at moments before. Well, this was new. Teleportation. She discovered an ability that she did not know she possessed. However, by virtue of her very nature, of being a vampire, nothing much startled her anymore. The bizarre and frightening had become commonplace to her. If not for that, this unexpected power of teleportation would have taken her by surprise, possibly terrified her.

Nevertheless, the world and all of its variables still managed to shock her occasionally. For instance, being introduced to a man who looked like her dead husband come back to life had been quite a heart stopping event. The overwhelming fear that continued to hold her in its iron hard grasp was losing her children. She would be forced to watch them die, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Her vampire blood was incompatible with their semi-immortal werewolf blood, therefore, she could not extend their lives by 'turning' them. The only thing she could do for them was protect them from having their lives cut short by outside forces. The most imminent threat at the moment was Father Anderson.

If only she could teleport to them. But she had no idea of their exact location. The priest was keeping their location a secret from her. Soon, very soon, she would be going to them. Tomorrow they were set to leave on their journey to Germany which was the reason for her being so restless tonight.

Raising her hands to her high collar, Willie began unbuttoning the tiny round pearl buttons of her long sleeved cream colored linen shirt. She hated the clothes Father Anderson provided for her. They were all so bland and colorless. They covered her from head to toe without baring an ankle or a wrist. Forced to wear corsets, slips, petticoats, and other useless, extraneous garments that pinched and squeezed, she longed for her loose, comfortable, and colorful gypsy clothing.

Father Anderson insisted that she dress demurely, conducting herself like a proper lady adhering to strict societal rules which concentrated on appearances and false decorum. She was forced to associate with the priests and nuns of the church as well as the attendees who comprised a good portion of the social and financial upper class of the city. Most people stared and whispered about her rather than talking to her directly. Loneliness and estrangement were her constant companions. She missed her family. She missed Alucard.

Willie continued the process of stripping off the multiple layers of clothing. Piece after piece came off and was carelessly tossed onto the dew soaked grass. If only it were so easy to remove the bad memories and the pain of a long lifetime, of a life that had no foreseeable end.

"If only..." she said out loud, her own voice sounding throaty and foreign to her own ears.

Then she felt him. His presence, powerful, imposing, overwhelmed her senses with a palpable pressure that made her inhale sharply. His cool hand lay heavy on her bare shoulder like the memory of his severe, handsome face weighed heavily on her brain. He was here. Once again, her heart had called to him, and he had answered. He had come to rescue her from the eternal darkness of depression and to keep her from sliding over the precipice into insanity.

"I've missed you," Willie murmured without turning to look at him. Her eyes fluttered closed when he pressed his chest to her naked back. She relished the skin to skin contact not caring that he was being terribly presumptuous by removing his clothes so quickly. His thin, strong arms enveloped her to hold her securely to his body.

"And I you," he returned, gliding his lips along her cheek.

"Do you remember - "

"I remember," he interrupted, pressing a kiss to her temple. He wound his fingers into her hair, pulling it to the side to reveal her neck to him. His lips puckered and planted themselves to her white skin under which her artery pulsed with life and fresh blood. She was eating well. That pleased him. So full of life and beauty. "You were so lovely that night. My goddess come to earth. I knew then I wanted to be with you forever."

"Forever?" she scoffed. "We've only been afforded small moments scattered through an eternity. Small flashes in time punctuated by frequent and lengthy separations."

"But I love you. That has never changed," he rejoined. He managed to sound like a petulant, spoiled child instead of a man confident in his confession.

"I have never doubted your love. But it has come at a high price. Time and time again."

Willie stepped away from him when his arms loosened from around her body. She dipped her toe in the stream. The water was freezing cold' the stream was most likely fed by a spring from somewhere underground since there were no mountains nearby. Stepping tentatively into the water, she smiled when she heard Alucard inelegantly splash about upon his entrance behind her. She waded into the stream until the water undulated around her waist, tickling her lower ribs.

Alucard place his hand on her shoulder, gradually turning her body until she faced him. He put his arms around her, embracing her so tightly that her breasts flattened to his upper abdomen.

"I am here. Be with me now because this is all we have until the next time. Whenever that moment comes."

Willie pushed him back, her sad eyes catching his to linger momentarily before gliding down to his chest. Her forefinger traced the thick, raised scar tissue that comprised the tattoo, the seal, on his chest. The permanent scar that she had left on him, an indelible mark that would remind them both of what she had done to him. But it was for his own safety, and that of many others.

"I'm sorry."

She could not stop staring at the scar that would never heal, that would always be a part of him despite his healing powers being restored. Her lips lowered to the disfiguring mark that was the only blemish on his entire body that was otherwise strong and perfect. The pulsating beats of his heart could be felt under her lips.

"Do not ever be sorry for this," he whispered to her, tipping her chin upward with his palms pressed to her cheeks. "You are the reason I am alive. Completely restored. Never apologize again for what you did," he admonished her gently. Before she could say another word, he covered her mouth with his to kiss her long, hard, and deep. He wanted her to know how much he missed her and how much he loved her. "You are the reason I live. For moments like this."

Willie's fingers threaded themselves into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his mouth back down to hers. His hair was so short. Once his hair had been longer than hers; an impressive mane of thick hair as rich and black as the night sky and just as gorgeous. She reminded herself that he was no longer truly Vlad Tepes. That person was only a part of him, buried deep inside of this body and this mind, Alucard. Alucard Hellsing was the man, the vampire, holding her and kissing her presently. And she had come to love Alucard Hellsing. She loved him as a singular entity as well as the sum of everything he had ever been including her beloved Vlad Tepes.

"I do love you," she panted after breaking the ardent kiss.

"I love you too," he rejoined, giving them both only a brief reprieve before resuming the kiss.

"I'll be going away soon. I don't know how long I will be gone," she told him between pecks on her lips.

"I know. That is one of the reasons I am. I am here to bid you farewell until we meet again." He pulled back from her, tapping his temple with his forefinger. "I can read your thoughts. I know everything that goes on in that beautiful head of yours."

"Why can't I read yours so easily?" Her eyes held his, willingly losing herself in their boundless depths.

"Because your mind is too frantic, too busy. You have too many thoughts and too many emotions clouding your concentration. Your mind never stills. Sometimes it almost drives me crazy being in there."

"Hmmm..."

"I do believe you are not even aware of all of the noise and chaos inside your mind."

"Oh, I'm aware," she sighed, lowering her eyes from his that had begun to burn like red hot cinders.

Crimson coloring flooded his irises when he experienced intense emotions: anger, love, desire. She blushed thinking about how forceful his love and desire could be.

"I just don't know how to stop the madness. None of it. It's always been that way so I suppose I'm accustomed to it."

"I know a lot of your unrest, your pain, is my fault. I am genuinely sorry for that," he apologized, pulling her head into his chest to cuddle her protectively. "Since we are on the subject of your thoughts, tell me about this young man who has become a part of your life."

"Young man?"

"Yes. Blond, handsome...looks disturbingly like someone from both of our pasts."

"Oh, him," she murmured, wanting to pull away but Alucard would not allow her to do so. "He's a child. I could never think of him in the way you are implying."

"I believe you. I know what you're thinking. But his appearance, certain aspects of his personality, reminds you of...him," he said, reluctant to speak Gannon's name.

"It's all right to say his name. It doesn't hurt quite so much anymore. No pain lasts forever, right?" Besides, how many times can a heart break before it's irreparable? She had lost count, and so far, she had continued to survive each heartache. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek into his narrow, smoothly muscled chest. Despite the leanness of his body, she could feel the undercurrent of brute strength flowing through him. "Alucard, do you ever foresee a day when we can just be together? When something or someone, isn't keeping us apart?"

"Willene, do you want an honest answer or do you want me to tell you a lie?"

"Lie to me. Tell me a sweet little lie to make the pain go away. Just for a little while," she begged, a tear sliding from her eye.

"No matter what happens, I will always be waiting for you. I will always love you. And that is the truth."

Willie smiled, chuckling lightly and sincerely. She asks for a lie and receives the greatest truth he could ever tell her. This man never ceases to amaze her.

"Now, my dear, Willene, I am about to do something to you make you forget everything. Just for a little while."

~\\..'../~

Noah turned away from the window when the man took Willie into his arms to kiss her again. Having indulged in voyeurism long enough, he drew the line at jumping into outright perversion by continuing to watch what was about to transpire. Jealousy, powerful and nauseating, had wormed its way into his gut upon the first kiss between them. As things had progressed, leading up to the inevitable point where he had to look away, the jealousy gave way to fury that he did not quite understand. Leaving the room, feeling quite sick, he went straight across the hall to knock of Father Anderson's door. The priest had told him if Alucard appeared he was to report it to him immediately.

"Come in," Anderson barked in his typical gruff manner.

Noah walked in receiving a scathing glower from the priest who sitting at his desk busily conscripting papers. Always writing letters, book drafts, translations of scriptures. The man kept himself busy doing only he knew what. After receiving a passing examination from Father Anderson's piercing eyes, the priest returned his attention back to whatever he was writing.

"Do you have anything to report?"

"No," Noah lied without hesitation. He wouldn't tell Father Anderson that his archenemy was on the church grounds making love to the woman being held against her will. No longer would he blindly follow the priest who had been a parental influence in his life. Since meeting Willie, he had been introduced to a whole new side of Father Alexander Anderson that he did not like. He realized he had been misled about many important things concerning himself by the devout and fanatical priest. The keeper of the flock had led him astray on more than one occasion.

"Why are you here? I'm busy."

"I have a question I must ask you."

Father Anderson dropped his pen to stare at the young man who had spoken with sternness and confidence despite having interrupted him. Usually meek and apologetic, the boy had never addressed him so forthrightly before. "What is it?"

"Would you really murder her family if she did not comply with your wishes?" Noah asked, returning the priest's withering glare.

"Yes," Anderson replied curtly, forming a steeple with his fingertips together after placing his elbows on the desk. "But I knew the mere threat would result in her compliance."

"Forgive me for saying so, sir, but you are a bastard." Noah averted his eyes when he saw a twinkle of amusement spark in the priest's grass green eyes. He set his gaze on a knothole in the light colored pine wood of the wall behind Anderson's head to avoid looking at him.

"She's gotten to you, hasn't she?" The priest sounded far too amused to have just been insulted by his apprentice.

"I don't know what you mean, sir." His body stiffened when Anderson rose from his desk coming around to stand in front of him.

"She's gotten into your head, boy, and I don't like it. I told you not to let her in. Not to allow your emotions to run away from you. It's what she does. She lies and seduces. Makes you love her then she kills you...one way or another. I warned you," he muttered, hanging his head, sad and disappointed.

"How could I not let her into my head?!" the distraught young man yelled, backing away a step when the priest's lethal glower fixed to his face. He stubbornly maintained eye contact without looking away. "Each time she bites me and takes my blood, I receive more of her thoughts and memories. Everything she feels, I feel. Her joy. Her sadness. I know every time her heart has broken, and it has hurt like hell each time. It hurts me."

Pressing his fingers to his temple, he struggled to contain his rage. His voice wavered with restraint when he spoke. "Now that she's there, I can't get her out.

Noah suddenly felt weary, exhausted. His chin dropped toward his chest. His shoulders sagged inward, collapsing his broad chest. The surge of bravery that had come with his righteous anger had escaped him, slowly leaking like air from a punctured balloon. Holding his head between his hands, he nearly sobbed, "She's in here. I couldn't keep her out. You never warned me about that."

"Are you done? Is there anything else you have to say to me?"

Father Anderson's voice was disturbingly calm, but Noah could not bear to lift his head to look at the man.

"Memories have been coming back to me," he confessed, noticing the hard expression of anger in the priest's eyes soften into pity and curiosity. "It's like her memories are calling to his and bringing up more and more."

"I'm sorry to hear that, son," Father Anderson apologized, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"You said they wouldn't come back...that the memories had been permanently repressed. You said his past had nothing to do with me. But it does. I feel like..." He paused, running his hand through his hair while he searched through his brain for the appropriate words. "I feel like I'm losing myself and becoming another man. I feel like I'm becoming _him. _I don't know who I am anymore. Which thoughts and feelings and memories are mine or theirs. Or the ones you gave me. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

When Father Anderson did not move or speak, Noah looked up to meet the priest's piteous gaze. For the first time Noah understood why Willie would become enraged when he would look at her a certain way - when he would look at her like _that. _It was humiliating to be pitied, especially by someone whose compassion was unwanted - or worse, completely misplaced and insincere. Gnawing anxiously at his lower lip, he regretted having said anything to Father Anderson.

"Does she know who you really are? What you are?"

"No. Somehow I've managed to keep pushing the contrived memories you gave me, feeding them to her as if they were really mine. But -" He ceased speaking to swallow repeatedly in an effort to choke down the lump in his throat. "But don't you think she should know? That I should tell her what I am. It's cruel to hide the truth, don't you think?"

Father Anderson raised an eyebrow at the venom contained in the last statement. He was worried about how much Noah really knew. Immediately, his face shifted into an impassive expression, his eyes going blank.

"What are you going to tell her? That you're a science experiment? You're the rousing success of the cloning experiment right down to the thoughts, emotions, and memories of another man?" Father Anderson scoffed disdainfully. "I have to admit that you are the greatest discovery in genetics since Mendel's pea experiment, but you're still the result of a concoction of cells in a petri dish. You were to be the basis for a German super soldier, the conglomeration of everything they believe to be perfect. Tall, blond haired, blue eyed, powerful, vicious..." Anderson paused, eyeing him up and down with an expression of disgust pulling his top lip back from his teeth. "And immortal. But a mongrel is still a mongrel," he sneered, smirking hatefully at the boy.

"Then why did you save me from that lab?" Noah asked in a low, growling tone. The hairs were standing up on the back of his neck stiffened because he was feeling threatened, cornered. The anger was back, surging through him like white-hot magma.

"I figured you could be of some use to me. Now, I'm not so sure."

Father Anderson smiled with dark glee to see a red coloration seeping into the boy's eyes. Noah had not yet transformed. The boy had not completely _become_: morphing into a werewolf and realizing his full potential. He had been born from genes harvested from the blood cells of a sample that Anderson had taken from the white wolf of the forest in that little mountain village so long ago. At the time, the priest had no idea what would become of that small vial of blood. Certainly not the breeding and birthing of genetically modified soldiers.

"I'm tired of lying to her. I don't want to do it anymore. I'm sick of making her believe the lies that you implanted into my brain. I've recalled too much of the truth, of _his _truth, to lie to her."

"Even you wanted to believe those lies. You were more comfortable with the false memories I gave you than the true ones of what you really are. Don't forget where you came from. You're not him. Just a mere shadow. A genetic copy." Father Anderson clamped his hand down on the young man's shoulder, leaning down to be eye to eye with him. "Noah, you of all people should know that sometimes _not_ telling someone the truth is the most merciful thing you can do for them."


	32. Chapter 32

Willie gingerly lay her hand on top of Father Anderson's offered hand to steady herself while climbing the narrow metal steps to board the train. Their journey had begun causing her whole body to tremble with anticipation. Soon she would see her children.

"Are you all right?" Father Anderson inquired, putting his other hand on top of hers.

She smiled sheepishly, demurely lowering her eyes from his probing green orbs. "I'm just happy. You have no idea how much I've missed them."

"No, I can't imagine how difficult it's been for you being separated from them."

Willie overlooked the irony of his statement since it was him who had threatened her children to hold her by his side. She gasped when his big calloused fingers brushed across her temple to smooth a stray curl behind her ear. Her eyes flickered to his. He looked upon her with the loving gaze of the friend he used to be. Remembering their sweet friendship in comparison to what it had become was like sticking a knife in her gut and twisting it. It hurt. For a moment, she believed he would apologize when she saw her pain mirrored in his eyes and it became his own. However, the sadness and regret barely registered before it was gone again.

Father Anderson glanced behind them to Noah who was busy talking to a porter. He was giving the railway employee instructions on how to handle their luggage that contained important documents and weapons that should remain undetected for everyone's safety and peace of mind. His tone was sharp, curt, and just plain rude when talking to the porter that was barely in his teens. The usually soft spoken, polite young man was acting very much unlike himself.

"Did something happen between you two?"

Willie followed his line of vision to the handsome blonde who had become distant and cold overnight. Since awakening this morning, he ignored her so vigorously she doubted her own existence when near him. A wistful sigh pushed past her lips. She had vowed not to care about him so it was only right that he should do the same in return. She would only break his heart because hers belonged to Alucard. Apparently, he understood that. But she could not stop the sensation that she was still being drawn to him. Every time she glimpsed at him, something plucked at her heart strings making her want to go to him, to hug him and apologize for whatever offense she had committed to hurt him so greatly. That inexplicable desire angered her as well. There was no reason for her to apologize for some mysterious trespass she had unknowingly committed against him.

"Come. Let's find our cabin. Noah will be along soon," he assured her when her gaze lingered on the grumpy man observing the porters loading their trunks into the luggage car.

Father Anderson led her to their private cabin. For the next two days, this would be their rolling home as they made their way to the Black Forest region of Germany. This small space was going to be uncomfortably cramped for more reasons than the obvious lack of space.

Willie lowered the window in anticipation of the stifling air that would grow thicker with tension when Noah arrived.

"You're going to have to put that back up before we leave. We're too close to the engine. Smoke will flood the cabin," Noah warned her gruffly in the midst of entering.

"Fine," she muttered, pushing the window back up until it clicked into place. She dropped heavily onto the padded bench, testily pulling her purple shawl more securely around her shoulders.

Father Anderson and Noah shared the seat across from her. An awkward silence engulfed them that became even more unsettling by their refusal to attempt to dispel it by speaking. All of them idly stared out of the window at the people standing on the platform. A tearful young woman kissed and hugged her husband good bye. A family, a mother, father, and two younger siblings bid their older sister who might have been all of eighteen years old, farewell. Men in business suits rushed by totally unconcerned with all of the emotional families. They had more important matters to attend to like making money.

An old couple stood holding hands and waving at someone who had already boarded the train. Tears stung Willie's eyes when she imagined they were waving at their grown child who had come to visit. Perhaps their son had come to visit his aging parents with his wife and to introduce them to their new grandchild.

Her imagination immediately turned to conjuring up questions about her own family. Had her other children gotten married? How many grandchildren did she have now? How big had the entire gypsy clan grown? How many elders had they lost? How many members had been lost to hunters and other murderous threats that had always been a part of their lives no matter how hard they tried to run from them?

Willie reached up to wipe away the hot tear that streaked down her cheek. A soft cotton handkerchief was pushed into her hand when more tears followed. Her head jerked around to see Noah leaning toward her to offer the cloth. His icy blue eyes nearly glowed while he gazed at her with pity. She accepted his pity because it was better than being burned by his scathing glances. Her fingers brushed across his to clutch the handkerchief. The way he flinched, snatching his hand away from her as if her touch sullied him, made her stomach clench with humiliation and shame.

"Thank you," she murmured, barely above a whisper.

Noah remained silent, staring at the wooden planks of the floor between his shiny brown dress shoes. Dressed in a brown tweed suit he resembled one of the businessmen more closely than he did his true vocation of being a priest in training. He nervously toyed with the brown bowler hat he held in his hands.

Father Anderson sat placidly with his hands folded in his lap, totally unfazed by whatever was transpiring without words between his two companions. He had traded his drab black priest's robes for a light gray cassock with pants a slightly darker shade of gray under it. A large, plain silver cross lay across the expanse of his broad chest which made the necklace look small in comparison to his big body.

Willie's body wrenched forward throwing her off the seat and almost into Noah's lap when the train lurched forward. She found herself in a precarious situation, kneeling between Noah's knees, further adding to her earlier embarrassment from which she had not yet recovered fully.

"Should I leave you two alone?" Father Anderson asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. One side of his mouth quirked upward into a sly little smile to indicate his jest.

"That won't be necessary," Noah assured him, grasping Willie by the shoulders to roughly assist her back into her seat.

Willie's arms felt bruised where he grabbed her. He had never been so fierce, so careless with her. She massaged her sore arms, averting her eyes from him when he stood up to stride past her.

"I'm going to the dining car for a drink," he announced, slamming the door behind him. The glass panes rattled precariously in their panes but did not break.

Willie jumped up to lower the window again to allow in a cooling breeze. The train was moving fast enough now that the smoke from the smokestack arced over the top of the cars.

"What happened between you two?" Father Anderson demanded to know more forcefully this time.

"I would like to know the answer to that question myself," Willie returned, resting her chin on the top of the sill so the rushing wind passed directly over her face. She felt like she could breathe a little better but not much.

"Whatever happened, fix it," he admonished her like a father would if she and Noah were arguing siblings.

"Why is it my responsibility to fix it?" she demanded, whirling around to face him.

"Because it's your fault."

The serene composure with which he spoke infuriated her. Convinced he was rightfully placing the blame, he accused her with the confidence of a prosecuting attorney holding damning evidence in his hand. Not only did he not have evidence of her wrongdoing, he had no clue what had even taken place because he would have been sure to list specific reasons to increase her guilt.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because it's always your fault." Father Anderson clasped his hands between his knees, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. "Don't you see, Willene? You hurt others by clinging to Alucard. Your love for him destroys others, albeit unintentionally, but it does."

"How can that be? I-I d-don't understand," she stammered, folding herself into the corner in a futile attempt to shrink away from the priest whose accusations and mere presence filled the room in way that made her want to disappear.

"It is your responsibility to make things right between the two of you." He noisily pushed air out between his pursed lips when she did not respond to his parental admonition. "Go to the dining car. You could probably use a drink too. I'm sure there are some things Noah would like to discuss with you. Important things."

"Like what?" She cocked her head like a confused puppy, genuinely curious and completely clueless as to what he might be talking about. The vague terms _important things _carried with them a veiled warning that those things might be information she would rather not know. Ignorance truly could be bliss depending on the subject matter of the revelation.

"Just go," he ordered her gently, nodding toward the door.

"Yes, _Dad_," she muttered irritably.

The priest smiled in sincere amusement of her double entendre. He found it comical she would refer to him in a parental manner not only because of his title of Father but also because she was older than him by a few hundred years. Taking the small notebook out of the inner pocket of his jacket, he rooted around for the stub of a pencil he always kept somewhere in his pockets for writing down notes. Scribbling down his latest observations of his companions, no matter how confusing they may be, he hoped they could all figure out this mess before arriving at their destination.

Willie entered the half full dining car to see Noah sitting at a booth in the corner far away from the few other patrons and the bartender. Although the short rocks glass was only half full of a golden brown liquid, it appeared untouched.

"Ma'am? What can I get for you?" the bartender with a Boston Blackie mustache and heavily greased, slicked back hair inquired dutifully.

"Wine. Red wine," she requested despite knowing it would have no more affect on her than water.

"Yes, ma'am." He pulled a tall, thin stemmed wine glass from under the counter. A satisfying, hollow pop sounded when he pulled the previously removed cork from the green glass bottle.

Willie took the filled glass with a smile and a nod before proceeding to the table to slide into the green leather seat across from Noah.

"What do you want?" His voice was coarse, harsh, signaling his unwillingness to talk - at least to her.

"What's wrong?" She took several big sips from her glass, the stringent fluid stinging her throat and nose slightly. Although she would not claim to be a wine connoisseur, she knew good wine and this was _not _good wine. Grimacing in displeasure but resisting the urge to spite out the fluid that was one step away from being vinegar, she forced herself to swallow the last bit in her mouth.

"It's awful isn't it? Would you like my blood instead?" His eyes shifted to her face. _You've taken my heart along with my blood. I wish you'd just take it all. Take all my blood and kill me. Save me from this hell, this prison, his memories have put me in._

Willie heard the words loud and clear as if he had said them aloud. She blinked several times, unsure if she had heard his thoughts or if her overactive, guilt ridden imagination had supplied the words to her brain.

"What prison? What hell do you need to be saved from? Whose memories?"

"Huh?" Noah stared at her in disbelief and the smallest degree of fear. "Get out of my head."

"I didn't do it on purpose. Tell me what's going on here. Why are you so angry with me? And what are you hiding about yourself?"

Noah rolled his eyes and sighed in way that made her believe the world was coming to an end. Picking up his glass, he drained the contents then slammed the heavy bottomed container back down on the table. He glared at her with a jaundiced eye, inhaling deeply.

"I saw you," he snarled through clenched teeth. He seethed with the fury and resentment of a spurned husband, emotions elicited by the remnants of her husband that ran through his veins tainting his thoughts. "I saw you with _him_."

"Saw me? With who? Him who?"

"What other him is there? Alucard, of course."

She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, when the full realization of what he was implying smacked her in the face like a sobering slap. How could she be so stupid? But she had been so sure that the cloak of night had covered them and that everyone in the house was asleep. Her face burned from the shamed induced by his reproachful eyes that refused to move from her face.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she apologized, hanging her head to avoid looking at him.

"You're sorry I had to see that?" he scoffed to reprove her. "But you're not sorry you did it?"

"He's the man I love. I have no reason to be ashamed of what I've done."

"But you are."

"And I have no need to apologize to you. Who do you think you are?"

Noah gaped at her, his eyes filling with pained shock as if she had struck him. He picked up her wine glass, finishing off what was left despite the terrible, astringent flavor. Raking his fingers through his hair, he dug his fingernails into his scalp in frustration.

"I don't know. I don't know who I am."

"Noah, what's going on? What are you?"

"What?" he exhaled impatiently, raising his eyes to look at her. "Interesting choice of words, Willie. I don't know what I am exactly either. What I can tell you is that I'm a lab experiment. A success according to Father Anderson. Do you want the short, layman's version or the scientific explanation?"

"Layman's, please."

"I'm a clone of your husband. I was created in a lab with genetic material scavenged from your second husband's blood. I was to be the first of a new breed of soldier. A man _and_ an animal. Something almost, but not quite human. A cold calculating killer in the form of a man with the instincts of an animal without the nuisance of human emotions. If only that last part could be true," he muttered, raising his glass to signal the bartender for another. He waited until his fresh drink arrived before speaking again. "I assure you, I don't know what or who the hell I am."

Willie felt her throat closing up, cutting off her air. A knot formed in her stomach which cramped spasmodically. Her head felt full and stuffed with cotton. Her vision blurred so she closed her eyes. Dizziness swamped her but would not overtake her causing her to lose consciousness. Oh, how she wished it would.

"Gannon," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"What?"

"Gannon. That was his name." She opened her eyes to met his gaze. "Did they ever tell you? Did Father Anderson ever tell you that?"

"No. He didn't. He did tell me that he was a werewolf. Willie," he mumbled, reaching to hold her hands that were lying limply on the table. "What am I? Who am I?"

"I don't have the answers you're looking for." She pulled her hands from his, folding them in her lap where he could not reach them.

"Please, help me," he begged. Tears swam in Noah's arctic blue eyes. The rims of his eyelids turned red from the burning tears he held at bay.

"I can't." Turning her body to the side, she prepared to slide out of the booth.

"Gannon. He was your husband. Your second husband after Vlad. Did you love him?" Noah questioned her, the acid of jealousy lacing his voice.

"More than you can imagine," she returned, pushing her body along the seat.

"But not more than Vlad?"

"Stop it. You have no idea what you're talking about."

Willie retreated from the dining car as fast as possible without using her super fast speed. Before she could reach their private cabin, Noah caught her on the platform between cars. When she attempted to open the door to the next car, he seized her by the wrist to prevent her from getting away from him.

"I don't know how you felt about him, but I know exactly how Gannon felt about you."

Willie spun around to glare at him, coming nose to chest with him since he was so much taller than her. Her eyes moved up until they latched onto his. "There's no way you could - "

"I have his memories," he hissed, cutting off her words. "I know everything he experienced and thought. I have his feelings. I feel everything he ever felt. I know his joy, his pain...his love. Every time I look at you, I'm sure my heart will burst. But it doesn't. It aches like hell. A pain that won't go away."

"You're not him," she mumbled, her eyes wide and horror stricken. "You're not him. You're not him."

Noah contemplated if she was trying to convince him or herself of that fact since she continued repeating the phrase like a mantra. "I know I'm not him, and that makes all of this that much more confusing. I am left to endure thoughts and feelings that are not my own. I wanted to think I was my own person, someone completely different. I can't help but think I'm nothing more than a replication, a pathetic copy of the man you loved."

"Noah," she whispered.

"What?" he snapped irritably.

"You're Noah Landon," she reminded him.

"I'm not sure who that is." He turned his back to her, holding onto the guardrail on the edge of the platform.

"Then you need to find out. Quit living in the past. Leave behind his past and find your own future."

Noah chuckled; a dark, hollow sound that encompassed his misery and self-loathing. "Shouldn't you follow your own advice?"

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you doing the same thing? Isn't Alucard merely a shadow of the Vlad who stole your heart? Didn't you learn to love another man in between? Or did you never _really_ love Gannon at all?"

"Shut up!" she screamed, punching him in the back of the head.

Noah cried out from the unexpected blow that made him wonder if she had dislodged his brain and broken his neck. He dropped to his knees, his hands tightening around the metal bar to keep himself from falling off of the train car.

"Vlad abandoned you time and time again. He selfishly took your love and left you with nothing. Gannon loved you wholeheartedly. He gave you everything, even his life."

Willie stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders at the base of his neck.

"Tell me what you're really upset about. Why are you really angry with me?"

"I don't understand how you can love someone so cold and so cruel. How can you can love a man who thinks of no one but himself? Someone who breaks your heart over and over by putting his desires over your needs."

"Ask me the one question that you need to have answered."

Noah sighed, bowing his head in defeat. "Why won't you love me?"

"You're a good man, Noah Landon. Just like Gannon. I'm not a good woman, and I've never pretended to be one," she murmured, stroking the side of his neck with one of her hands. "Maybe it's the evil within me that resonates with the evil inside of Alucard. I never felt like I deserved Gannon or his love. As a matter of fact, I'm sure I didn't."

"Why are you telling me this?" He reached for her hand to make her stop petting him. This kind of affectionate stroking should be reserved for children or animals, of which he was neither.

"Although you're not Gannon, you're very much like him. I won't destroy another good man by allowing myself to love him."

"That's not fair."

"To who?"

"To you." Noah stood to his feet, turning to face her. To his great satisfaction, she did not pull away from him when he put his arms around her shoulders. Although her body remained stiff and her arms by her sides, he held onto her.

"Noah, don't be a child," she chided him, turning her cheek to his chest. She could hear his heart beating fast but steady in her ear. His touch, his scent, everything about him calmed her and made her feel safe - and loved. The only other person who had ever made her feel so secure was Gannon. "Love just isn't that easy or simple."

"It can be," he rejoined in a ridiculously optimistic manner that annoyed her. "It is that easy."

"You fool. You stupid, hardheaded fool," she murmured, resisting the urge to hug him. Pushing away the warm, tender emotions that tried to flood her heart, she reminded herself she could not, would not, fall in love with this man. She belonged to Alucard. Why did her past have to keep invading her present in such tragic, heartbreaking ways?

"I suppose I am," he agreed, loosening his embrace.

"There's more important matters to attend to at the moment than matters of the heart." Since he stubbornly refused to accept her argument, she decided to change the subject entirely. "Have you become yet?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you had you experienced your first transformation into a werewolf?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Lucky for you, we're headed to a place where there are many people who can help you. Being around your own kind should induce your first transformation and make it easier for you. I will be there for you. I can offer you my friendship but nothing more."

"I can accept that. Thank you," he said appreciatively, cradling her head in the palm of his hand.

"I want you discover Noah Landon. The man you're meant to be."

"Me too."


	33. Chapter 33

Willie shifted the heavy backpack she carried to find relief from the soreness in her shoulders. The straps felt like they were cutting through the layers of her brown leather vest and her thick beige cotton shirt underneath to dig into her skin. Her brown leather pants and hiking boots were keeping her warm and comfortable on the never ending hike up the mountain. She longed for the unrestricting full skirts and loose fitting tops of the gypsies.

_Not much longer, _she reminded herself. She would trade in her wardrobe and her loneliness. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Soon she would be reunited with her family. All of them.

Glancing behind her, she watched Father Anderson and Noah struggle with the large, cumbersome trunks. Although she could help, she would not. They had insisted on bringing along the unnecessary equipment so they could deal with it.

Returning her gaze to what lay in front of her, she trudged on. The trees, bushes, vines, and various other kinds of underbrush twisted and tangled together creating a natural wall blocking her path. She walked around them or pushed them aside because nothing would prevent her from reaching her children. _Nothing, _her brain repeated for emphasis.

The sun would be setting soon, and they would have to make camp again so the men could rest. They were still half human after all. She did not want to delay another night. She wanted to be there, to be with her family. Stealing a glimpse at the imposing priest out of the corner of her eye, she wondered if he actually knew where they were going or if this was a convoluted trap laid by him to ascertain the location of the pack.

"How much longer?" Willie inquired, impatience tightening her voice.

"Soon. Very soon," Father answered vaguely.

Doubt that he knew their whereabouts seeped into the edges of her conscious thoughts. What if he had lied to her from the start? That had not been a chance she was willing to take when it meant the lives of her children and entire pack.

"Do you regret it?" the priest questioned her.

Willie pretended not to hear him, her steps quickening with anger fueled determination. Besides, she truthfully had no idea what he could be referring to anyway.

"Do you?" he pressed, refusing to let it go.

"Regret what?" she ground out through her clenched teeth.

"Do you regret saving him? More to the point, do you regret bargaining the lives of your children for a man who may, or may not, be there for you when you need him most?"

Willie refused to answer. She wanted no more of his mind games, his manipulation.

"Sir, please," Noah pleaded on her behalf. "You should cease antagonizing her."

Father Anderson chuckled: a hollow sound full of mean spirited malice like that of a child laughing while burning ants with a magnifying glass. "Or what? What will you do, apprentice?" he taunted Noah.

A palpable vibration reverberated through her bones like a steady electric hum from head to toe. Her steps halted, and she sucked in a deep breath. An energy gradually seeped into her body like she was being warmed by the summer sun. The recognizable and welcome aura of her family soothed her injured soul and aching body like a healing salve.

"They're close," she murmured to herself. Dropping her backpack onto the grass at her feet, she turned to look at Noah over her shoulder. "Noah? Can you feel it?"

"Feel what?" he inquired, unable to feel anything but hot and angry.

He set down the trunk when Father Anderson motioned him to do so. Tugging at the unlaced collar of his shirt, he ruffled the material to move the cool fall air around his heated, sweaty body. He had changed into clothes much like Willie's in preparation for the hike up the mountain.

Father Anderson had stayed in his priest's garb but had managed to not break a sweat or appear winded by the journey.

"Whoa," Noah mumbled, stepping back in surprise when Willie unexpectedly appeared in front of him having been several yards away seconds before.

"Close your eyes," she commanded him.

"Willie, please, I don't - "

"Close your eyes," she ordered him more forcefully like a mother talking to a stubborn child.

Maybe that was how she thought of him; he was nothing more than a child to her. He blinked at her, his eyebrows drawing together in a grumpy expression.

"Fine," he muttered, closing his eyes. He jumped when her warm palm pressed to his bare skin over his heart. He had not felt her pushing her hand inside of his shirt to reach him. She had a disturbing, creepy way about her sometimes that frightened him. It was those times the fact she was a vampire would come to the forefront of his brain with stunning clarity.

Noah concentrated on the sensation of her smooth skin against his. He did enjoy her touch. He could feel his heart beating against her hand. The pulsating seemed to bounce off her palm and sink back into his chest like an echo. But it was not an echo of his own heartbeat. Instead, her heartbeat resonated with his, syncing into flawless harmony. His mouth dropped open in an effort to speak but the words would not come. More thrumming heartbeats joined theirs, creating a deafening orchestra of beats in his ears that made his whole body tremble.

"That's them. Your kind. They're calling to you," Willie whispered, her voice low and hypnotic, somehow breaking through the pounding rhythm in his head.

A howl, loud and deeply pitched, shattered the mesmerizing atmosphere. Noah instantly seized Willie, pulling her to his chest in a protective embrace.

Father Anderson chuckled again, but this time in sincere amusement. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket inside his cassock.

After all these years, he too had developed his own vices. Who wouldn't after being alive a couple of centuries or so? Since such things as whore-mongering and drunkenness were frowned upon by the church, the occasional glass of wine or cigarette would have to fit the bill. He sat down on the trunk he had been carrying to light a cigarette. He prepared to relax in anticipation of the events that were about to unfold in front of him. Things were going to get interesting.

A growl emanated from the trees around them. The menacing sound echoed in the clearing in which the trio stood making it impossible to detect the exact location of its origin. Another growl picked up where the first left off. There came a soft woof from one of the wolves communicating to another. Then a chuff came in return, most likely in disapproval of the male strangers. There was no way to tell how many wolves surrounded them.

"What's happening?" Noah whispered, squeezing her arms more tightly at the sound of another sinister snarl.

"They're trying to figure you out. You look and smell like Gannon. But you're not him. I understand their confusion," she confessed, wriggling out of his grip.

"Willie, no!" he exclaimed, reaching for her when she walked toward the border of the clearing.

"Shhh," she hissed, putting her finger against her lips. "Neither of you say a word."

Willie slowly dropped to her knees. She extended her hand in front of her, palm down. She lowered her head and eyes, staring at the leaf strewn ground under her knees. Her pants felt wet from the evening due beginning to gather.

The leaves of the bushes in front of her shimmied and rustled when the wolf pushed his big body through the intertwined branches. A massive white wolf, much larger than any normal wolf, stood in front of Willie. His gigantic white head appeared to by twice the size of that of the woman kneeling submissively in front of him. The large head eased forward, his damp black nose pressing to the back of her hand. He sniffed her; several noisy inhales to fill his nostrils with her scent. His terrifyingly huge mouth opened to reveal a set of white, treacherously sharp teeth.

"Oh, my God," Noah gasped.

The wolf's head jerked toward him, the teeth gnashing together as the canine-like creature emitted a threatening snarl, baring his teeth up to the pink gums. The vivid, almost glowing, silvery blue eyes latched onto Noah.

A second wolf, his lustrous coat a brownish orange color, trotted out to stand beside the white wolf. More wolves appeared from the cover of trees and bushes to fill the clearing. Four wolves encompassed each the two men, making the total number of sentries ten. They lowered their heads, lips peeling back from teeth glistening with saliva in the waning light of the day. If given the slightest provocation by the strangers who intruded upon their territory, they would attack - and devour.

The four thronging Noah acted particularly antsy. Their ears pressed flat to their heads, their eyes open so wide the whites could be seen around their luminescent blue or gold irises. This man who bore the visage and the scent of their long dead king confounded them. The grinding sound of ominous growls started from deep in their throats and squeezed between their clenched fangs.

"It's okay. He's a friend. He's one of you," Willie assured them, raising her eyes to gaze at the white wolf before her. "Please...he means you no harm. Actually, he needs your help."

The russet colored wolf drew closer to her. Although smaller, this wolf was no less intimidating or frightening than the white one. His eyes of molten gold fixed on her greenish gold ones as he boldly moved forward to shove his snout right into her hair to sniff her heartily. He bowed his head, pressing the expanse of his wide skull into her chest to bowl her over onto her back. He straddled Willie's body, placing his front paws on either side of her head, before his gaping maw lowered toward her face.

The swish of clothing from swift movement and the distinct click of guns being readied punctuated the already tense, thick air. Both Noah and Father Anderson had carried guns in holsters hidden under their jackets. Vicious barks pierced the strained quietude.

"No, stop!" Willie screamed, putting her hands up into the air. "They won't hurt you."

Her last statement had been directed at everyone, not just her human companions who had retrieved their weapons. She wanted to diffuse all agitated parties of the situation before something happened that could not be taken back.

Clicking once again echoed through the thick atmosphere when the guns were uncocked then put away. A whine of acknowledgement erupted from the leader of the group. The tension dissipated to a small degree, at least to the point where everyone could breathe again.

The wolf standing over her licked her like an affectionate dog upon the return of his master. The white wolf stepped closer, nudging the brownish orange one away. He pushed his nose close to Willie, touching her cheek with its cold wetness before pushing his head into hers in a gentle headbutt. These two wolves who greeted her so sweetly were her sons, Rafe and Zev.

Both wolves backed off, allowing Willie to stand to her feet. The remaining wolves backed away to edges of the clearing forming a wide circle around them. Suddenly, all of the wolves dropped their heads, bowing in reverence to the man who entered the clearing.

Noah and Father Anderson stared at the man in gape mouthed awe. Over six feet tall, barrel chested and brawny, he studied them with silvery, almost colorless eyes. The hair on his head, white as snow, tumbled over his shoulders. He looked like an older, fully matured version of Noah, or more rightly, his father Gannon.

"Connor," Willy gasped, rushing into her son's arms.

"Mama," he sighed, embracing her tightly. There was something endearing about hearing a grown man say that to his mother.

"Mama?" Noah could hardly believe it. The man who called her mother looked to be in his mid thirties, over ten years older than her. Then he recalled that she had warned him that werewolves were not truly immortal; they simply aged at a much slower rate than humans giving them a much lengthier life span than humans.

"Oh, has it been so long?" she asked, pulling back to look at her dear firstborn's face.

"I'm afraid it has. We've missed you so terribly," he told her. Tears like liquid pearls formed forming in the corners of his eyes.

"I know how you feel," she replied, patting his cheek. "My baby. I've missed you too. I'm so glad to be back with you."

The ecstatic smile on her face drooped when she noticed him warily examining her two companions standing behind her.

"Who are they?"

"Father Anderson, he's...he's uh, an old...friend." She had almost choked on the word, barely able to form it in her mouth.

After giving the priest a long, lingering glare, he jutted his chin in Noah's direction. "And that one."

"Noah Landon. He's, ah, he's...hmmm...well, that's a little more difficult to explain." Her true relationship with both men was equally impossible to explain in one word but she could not find that one word to sum up her relationship with Noah.

"Why does he look so much like Dad?"

"That will be even harder to explain. We can discuss that later. It will take a while."

Connor's eyebrow shot up toward his hairline. He had mastered that incredulous expression his father used to give her when he knew she was being evasive.

"Don't give me that face. I'll explain everything. I promise," she swore.

"Fine. Let's go. A celebration is in order. Let's get you to the castle as quickly as possible. Follow me," he commanded the other two with the definitive tone of a man accustomed to being in charge and not having his directives questioned or ignored.

Connor proudly escorted his mother, her small arm threaded through his and her tiny hand resting on his hard muscled forearm. He filled her in on the state of the immediate family.

Rafe was the second in command of the pack and Zev the third. Both would one day give rise to several successors who would solidfy their family's place as King of the Clan and leader of the pack.

All of his siblings were married with the exception of Zev which did not surprise Willie. What did surprise her was that her youngest had become something of a ladies man and a hopeless flirt. He was just like his father in that respect; like Gannon was before he chose to set his heart on her of course. Then he had been a one woman man after that.

The sun disappeared yet their journey had not ended. Walking in total darkness was no problem for the wolves and the vampire with their eyes that saw through the blackness as clearly as they did in the light of broad daylight.

The other two, Father Anderson and Noah, had not yet grown accustomed to their night vision, not having to use it and never having to depend on it. They were nudged along with wet noses and brushes of strong, furry shoulders from their lupine escorts.

"Come on. We're almost there," Willie announced, excitement evident in her voice.

"Why don't they transform? Shouldn't they greet you properly as humans?" Father Anderson questioned her, throwing his third spent cigarette to the ground. He snuffed out the remnant with his boot heel.

"If they transformed now, they'd be naked. It would be embarrassing for all of us don't you think, Father?" She tossed her hair with an arrogant swipe of her hand. "Besides, who are you to speak to me about manners? Far be it from you to condemn someone in their treatment of another."

Father Anderson smiled appreciatively at the woman. Despite everything, she still managed to act like a lady, to maintain airs, the superior attitude, befitting of the station she had been born into centuries ago.

"Still very much the Countess after all of these years, milady," Father Anderson commented.

"She's actually a Queen to the Gypsies, Priest," Connor informed him. He abruptly turned to face the man who spoke to his mother with far too much familiarity for his liking. They were virtually the same and height build, Connor being the slightest bit bigger and carrying a far more vicious air than the clergyman. "While you're here, you should remember your place. Out there," he growled, pointing back down the mountain, "in the world of humans, you may be someone special, possibly even revered. But here you are nothing but a guest and you should act accordingly."

"My, my, the Queen Mother did raise an excellent son," he complimented, sliding Willy an approving glance.

"Her and _my father," _he added, placing marked emphasis on the words.

"Yes, indeed. A son to be proud of, for sure."

"And here's our castle," Connor announced pulling back the verdant curtain formed by two weeping willows.

A sprawling castle constructed of gray bricks sat in the middle of an open area. Some of the bricks were weathered to white while others were covered with green moss or black algae giving the drab walls interesting touches of color. The splash of water reached their ears before they could see the river creating a natural boundary across the back and side of the property.

The castle and its setting reminded Willy of the mountaintop haven she had left hundreds of years ago, where she and Gannon had lived and loved for many years. Sadness, more burdensome than the backpack that bit into her shoulders, weighed down upon her. She held the tears back that stung her eyes. There would be no sad tears on such a joyous occasion. If she cried, she wanted them to be happy tears.

People started to gather in the expansive courtyard, emerging from the castle and the other outbuildings constructed of wood and scattered about the property. The wolves who had led them here ran into to the castle to return soon in their human form, clothed and ready to greet their mother and queen. She hugged and kissed all of her children, allowing the tears of joy to flow freely. Then came the introductions to her grandchildren she had not yet met, all ten of them. Her first grandchild, her husband's namesake, greeted her after all of his younger siblings and cousins.

"Oh, my baby Gannon," she gasped, putting her arms around the broad shoulders of the dark and handsome young man who bent down to hug her. The boy looked nothing like his namesake. He looked like his father with his chestnut colored hair and eyes to match, lightly tanned skin, and freckles on his nose.

"I've missed you so much, Grandma. I was only a toddler the last time I saw you," he said, squeezing her before releasing her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she apologized, pushing his wispy bangs out of his eyes. "Things have been complicated."

"They always have been," he agreed with a smile. "Not exactly being human is a complicated thing."

"You have no idea." She glimpsed around in an attempt to see Noah or Father Anderson. Unable to find them, she took her grandson by the arm. "Come. Let's walk and talk to everyone."

Willy put her arm through her grandson's to keep him close while searching for Noah and Father Anderson. Every few seconds they were being stopped and greeted my members of the gypsy family. Melancholy enveloped her like a damp, cold blanket when she encountered more new faces she did not recognize than old familiar faces of people she knew. A new generation had long ago replaced the one composed of her and her husband's contemporaries. The generation or two after that were slowly fading in number as well. To never grow old, to never die, was indeed a curse.

"Grandma, who are they?" Gannon inquired, pointing to Noah and Father Anderson who stood between Connor and Rafe while completely engulfed by curious onlookers.

Willie smiled, shaking her head while studying the crowd. Women comprised the largest part of the group thronging the unusual visitors. Naturally, Noah garnered most of the attention receiving flirtatious glances from behind batting eyelashes. The animated conversations were peppered with lots of giggles and pats on his broad shoulders and hard biceps.

"One is an old friend. One is a new friend," she replied.

"You can never have too many friends, I suppose," he rejoined, bewildered by her bland answer delivered in a sad voice.

"Never. Just be sure you know who your _real_ friends are." Her eyes rested on Father Anderson. "Gannon, my darling boy, let me tell you a few important things. Never betray a friend. No matter what. Fulfill your promises. Don't lie. Always tell the truth. Even when it hurts. Understand?"

Gannon chuckled lightly since she lectured him as if he were still a small child. "Yes, Grandma." He paused, staring at the man who had a disturbing resemblance to his two oldest uncles, and from what he had been told, the grandfather he never knew. "Why does that man look like Uncle Connor and Uncle Rafe?"

Willie sighed, patting his bicep. "Honey, let's go grab your uncles and find somewhere private to talk. It's a long story."


	34. Chapter 34

Willie's eyes scanned the faces of her children, their spouses, and her eldest grandson. All of them had remained unfazed by the involved scientific explanation of Noah's uncanny resemblance to the family patriarch and the past king. The outrageous and unbelievable were nothing new to them. They were werewolves after all; caught somewhere between being human and wolf, existing in dual worlds of man and beast and belonging with neither exclusively.

She had also told them how she came into servitude to the priest as well. Their expressions transformed from pensive to angry upon learning that their mother had been black mailed, threatened with their demise, in order to force her to aid the unscrupulous priest. She could see in the way her sons gripped the weapons attached to the belts at their waists that they would like to run out and skewer the man before slitting him from his navel to his Adam's apple, freeing his internal organs from their proper place in his torso. She folded her hands behind her back, pacing the length of the large rectangular room usually reserved for private meetings with the Gypsy King pertaining to matters of politics. Tonight it was the place for a family discussion of no less importance.

A tense silence filtered through the room further thickening the stifling atmosphere of boiling anger. The men practiced the highest degree of restraint, remaining still and gripping their weapons until their knuckles turned white and gritting their teeth to withhold nasty words. Her daughters, on the other hand, became quite vocal. Speaking rapidly in Romani, heaping curses on the priest's head while disavowing his existence, they each spat on the stone floor in turn as a final statement on their feelings for the man.

Willie studied her surroundings while allowing them the time needed to effuse their anger. This room reminded her of the audience chambers in Vlad's castle where he had held cloistered meetings with his generals or royal visitors. She had spent many hours in that room preparing for campaigns which resulted in many victorious battles adding to Vlad's power, fortune, and fame. Her fingers gingerly slid over the bumpy edges of the rough cut stones taken straight from the face of the mountain and fitted together to create strong, impenetrable walls. The floor under her feet was the same kind of stone which had been rubbed smooth to allow for a fitting surface on which to walk. Vlad had paid a fortune for a floor of wooden planks to be installed over the plain stone floor in his castle. All at the whim of his selfish wife, Ilona.

Music rang in her ears when a memory from long ago started to seep into her conscious mind. People were dancing across that finely crafted, fantastic wooden floor. Servants dressed in uniforms of beige and brown carried trays of food and wine to offer the guests garbed in eye popping shades of red, green, purple, blue, and orange. The servants in earthen tones were quite a contrast the rich and aristocratic peacocks who pranced around and talked nonsense to each other. As if the separation of class and their place in society needed any further distinction, the colors made those differences glaringly evident.

Willie shuddered when a laugh, high pitched and acerbic, rang through her head as loudly as it had that night so many centuries ago. Next she recalled being on her knees cleaning up spilled wine; the wine that Ilona had caused her to spill after purposely toppling the tray carried in her hands. Ilona had ordered her to clean up the wine before it destroyed the expensive floor that had been a gift from her precious husband Vlad. The liquid had made a terrible crimson stain like blood on the light colored skirt of her uniform. The only thing uglier was that stain left on her heart by the embarrassment and shame she suffered that night. She sighed, pushing away the unwelcome invasion of the past into her present.

Willie opened her hands, staring at the palms as if they might be stained with the blood she had spilled over her lifetime. Blood she had drawn and lives she had taken in the name of her Lord and Master Vlad Dracul III. Then there was the blood she had taken to sustain herself, to maintain her immortality. Voices called to her from the past, the screams of those she murdered tortured her mind.

"Mama? Mother!" Connor yelled to get her attention. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she lied with remarkable sincerity.

Returning her thoughts to the current situation, she cast one more glance about the room. There were thrones and banners like in any other royal audience chambers. Her children had taken the clan leadership in the distressingly mainstream direction of any monarchy. She did not like that at all. Things had changed in a way that bothered her because it reminded her of the society from which she had come, where she had been a servant held captive both mind and body. The gypsy clan she knew would never have conducted themselves in such a way. The gypsy people embodied freedom of thought and will. They held their liberty dear to their hearts, acting on it to live and love as they pleased while creating one big cohesive family unit. Above all things, they had always been a family. There had never been any distinctions of class or power among their people. There was no separation between those in leadership or the ones being led. Yet that had all changed.

Willie tried to keep an open mind and not instantly reject her son's divergent leadership techniques. Perhaps Connor had simply taken his initially unwanted role of king to heart and decided to lead his people in a new direction. Within wolf packs there was a definite and intricate hierarchy among the members. This chain of command not only determined social status but ones function, occupation so to speak, within the pack. Maybe he believed relying more on their feral nature, that of the wolf, would ensure their safety more so than attempting to act completely human and attempt to fit in 'normal' humans. In the past trying to fit in had never accomplished much because they remained to be shunned and hated by virtue of being gypsies alone without betraying any knowledge of their lupine side. His unique approach appeared to be working for the pack, affording them the luxury of safety while maintaining their freedom.

Willie studied her son, the King, the leader, the Alpha Wolf. His shoulders and back had broadened, becoming knotted with an abundance of muscle. He carried the burden of responsibility both physically and mentally. His wife, nearly as tall as him with silky black hair and eyes an attractive luminescent yellow like molten gold, aided him with carrying that weighty encumbrance. He had chosen a fitting political partner and a beautiful mate.

Her other sons, and sons-in-law, flanked Connor, standing at the ready to assist, to fight, to protect, not only their King but every member of the pack. Even now, while locked in private chambers for a family meeting, they stood in casual battle dress with leather vests and forearm guards over their thick protective clothing made of durable deer hide. Their hands rested on the swords or knives lashed to their waists or thighs. These were the generals, the commanders in charge of the warriors among them. Transforming into werewolves in order to protect the pack remained as a last resort like it had always been.

Her three daughters and the women Connor and Rafe had married, sat in high backed chairs, the thrones, positioned on the elevated platform at one end of the room. These women were the foundation on which the pack found stability and strength. They were the influential pillars of their society who supported their husbands and their people. They were the nurturers, the peace keepers, the glue that held their society together. These chosen women acted as the underlying strength of the group and as reinforcements to their husbands, unifying their families and their pack.

Willie felt like her heart might burst with pride when she looked at all of them. They had done well. Better than she could have imagined, and better than they would have done had she stayed. Of that fact she was convinced. Not only had they survived in her absence, but the pack, and her children, had flourished. That fact filled her with both jubilation and sadness.

Aware of her selfishness but giving into her self-pity anyway, she wallowed in her new found and miserable state of obscurity. They did not need her at all. They were more than capable of protecting themselves and their own without her. Although every mother wants their children to reach a state of independence and self-sufficiency, it's still an emotional stab to their tender maternal heart. She had thought too highly of herself believing they needed her to save them from the Priest. But she was their mother, and that's what mothers do: love and protect their children always. No matter what happens in their lives, no matter how old they get or where they go, they would always be her babies. The unmistakable feeling that she had become a hindrance, a millstone about their necks, hit her with sobering intensity like a slap to the face. In that moment, she realized she should not have come and could have possibly destroyed the peace and safety they had created for themselves.

"I shouldn't have come here." She gasped, immediately covering her mouth with her hand. She had not meant to allow her thoughts to take form in spoken words.

"What? What did you say, Mother?" Connor questioned her, shocked by what he had heard. He took swift, long strides, reaching her in seconds. "Why? Why would say such a thing?"

"I thought I was protecting you by acquiescing to the priest's threats. You are more than capable of protecting yourselves. You don't need me at all," she murmured, staring at the flat stones of the floor under her feet. She could not meet the piercing gaze of his crystalline silvery blue eyes that were exactly like those of his father.

"We'll always need you. You're our mother," he said. His embrace was firm but gentle like his words. "We're glad you're here. We've missed you."

"I have missed you as well. My heart has ached so much while being apart from you. But...I believe I have put you all in danger. I allowed that priest to play on my worst motherly fears. I shouldn't have brought him here. I shouldn't have come," she mumbled regretfully, turning away from him when he dropped his arms from around her.

"Mother," Addie spoke, her voice loud and full of conviction like her brother's. "You have not put us in any more danger than we were already in from the outside world. You know as well as anyone that peril and threat of death from outsiders had always been a part of our lives. It is nothing new."

"He could bring others. There _are_ others. They've been waiting, watching...spying on you."

"Did you really think we didn't know?" Zev piped up next. He pushed off the wall on which he had been leaning to come closer to his mother. His golden brown eyes twinkled when he caught her gaze then winked at her. "Those men are nothing to worry about. They were given leave of their positions quite some time ago."

"You're giving us precious little credit for having good heads on our shoulders," Rafe added. Usually quiet, content to allow his siblings to do all of the talking, hearing his voice caught everyone off guard. He shrugged off their stunned stares and continued to speak to his mind to his mother. "Don't you think you and Dad taught us better than that? Dad passed on his extensive knowledge of herbs, both the medical and mystical uses. We know magic and enchantments. That is a gypsy tradition separate from our werewolf nature. Why would we embrace one and not the other? They live together in harmony, inseparable, like the two natures inside us. We use both to strengthen ourselves and to protect the pack." He took a deep breath as if to calm himself before moving to stand next to his mother. "Considering the predicament you're in Mother, I believe you are the one who needs our protection for once in your life. Why don't you let us take care of you for a change?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, patting Rafe's cheek. "You're right. I didn't give any of you enough credit for the amazing people you have become. Please forgive a foolish mother for continuing to see you as her small children who need her instead the confident, resourceful adults you have become."

"Oh, Mama," Bevin and Feya exclaimed in unison. They elbowed past their siblings to throw their arms around her for a crushing hug. Those two spoke and acted as one like they did when the were children. They probably still finished each others sentences and knew the others thoughts without exchanging a word; the amazing gift of being one while also being two independent individuals, the special bond shared between twins.

Willie hugged and kissed each of her children, whispering words of love and adoration to them. Her children's lives had gone on without her and along the way they had grown into awe-inspiring adults who had not only taken charge of themselves but of the people entrusted to them. Life had progressed naturally and just as it should.

"What about this Father Anderson? We must decide what to do with him," Rafe announced, drawing his family's attention back to more pressing issues. "Surely he has suspicions that there is something wrong with his comrades. That has to be one of the reasons he's here."

"That and to find the location of the pack to kill you all," Willie said, her tone grim. "He might try to go back down the mountain to the town to contact reinforcements."

"We've put an enchantment on this mountain. That priest couldn't find his way back down if he had a compass and used the stars to navigate his route. He'd be doomed to wander the forest until he died of starvation," Addie informed her, patting her shoulder. "Don't worry, Mom. We've lived in peace and safety for a while now. We've grown quite fond of it. We don't intend to lose it so easily."

"We'll kill him first rather than let that happen," Zev threatened, unsheathing the long bladed knife secured at his waist and strapped to his thigh.

Willie recoiled without meaning to do so. She would never have guessed her laughing, care free youngest son would become a practiced and unrepentant killer. However, she knew he had become one out of necessity to protect everything and everyone he loved. Besides, who was she to judge being a killer herself?

"We also took an exceedingly winding path while leading all of you here. We doubled back and circled the mountain a few times while we were bringing you here," Connor confessed.

That explained why it took such an obscenely long time to reach their destination. She and her companions never would have arrived had someone not come after them to lead the way. They had only been able to sense the werewolves because they had allowed her and Noah to sense their presence.

"My crafty, little ones," she complimented them all, pressing her palm to Zev's tanned cheek that was dotted with darker brown freckles. Her baby boy was no longer the pale, clownish child teased mercilessly by his siblings and other members of the clan.

"What should we do with the Priest?" Rafe asked, folding his arms over his broad chest.

"Maybe we should drug him and place him in the dungeon for safe keeping," Willie suggested.

"Are you being serious?" Zev questioned her, raising an eyebrow. His mother had moments of offering up unexpected sarcastic humor. He could not be sure this wasn't one of those moments.

"There is a dungeon, isn't there? Every good castle must have a dungeon."

"What would we do with him after that?" Addie inquired testily to determine her mother's sincerity on the matter.

"I'm not sure." Willie shrugged unable to come up with an immediate answer. "I'm sure we can figure something out. The most important thing is to keep him contained and subdued. I'm not familiar with taking prisoners. Vlad never allowed such a thing."

"This is indeed a war," Connor confirmed.

"Our survival always has been a fight. Us against everyone else. Sometimes that included our own kind," Addie reminded him. "What about Vlad?"

"Alucard? I told him I was leaving. I did not give a definite time of my return."

Addie took one of her mother's hands between both of hers. "Then stay with us. We aren't little kids anymore, but we still need you. So do your grandchildren." Her eyes flicked toward her son Gannon, her mother's first grandchild, before returning to her mother's vibrant green eyes. "You have already missed so much of our lives and the lives of your grandchildren. Not to mention your friends that have died."

"Please stay!" the twins begged as a unified force.

"Mother, will you return to us?" Connor saw her open her mouth and rushed to continue speaking. "Not as our Queen but as our Mother only. Please..."

"I would like to..."

The way she allowed her words to trail off, her children sensed a but, a protest that she left unspoken. Before things became uncomfortable, Zev came to their rescue with a change of subject.

"What about this Noah person? What do we do with him?" Zev interjected.

"He's no threat to you," Willie assured them, confident in her statement. "He's one of you. A werewolf. A part of your father resides in him as well."

"Shall we vote here first to accept him into the pack? By a show of hands, who agrees to accept Noah Landon as one of us?" Connor raised his hand without hesitation.

"Not so fast, my husband and king. Shouldn't we wait to learn more about him?" suggested Connor's wife, Berta. She had no qualms taking on the role of devil's advocate to express concerns and ask questions that might otherwise remain unspoken. "What do _we _know about this man? Shouldn't we be allowed to spend time with him, to get to know him, before we make such an important decision?"

"I don't believe we should act on your mother's suggestion and appraisal of him alone," Felix, Addie's husband, said in support of sister-in-law's objection. He glanced at his former Queen standing beside the present King. He clicked his heels together and bowed like a soldier and loyal subject. "I apologize if I offended you, my Queen."

"I am no longer your Queen, Felix, don't be silly," she chastised him gently. "I have not been for some time and never will be again." She took Connor by the hand, squeezing it to show her support for him. "Only his declarations and decisions stand now. I am simply your mother."

"I could decide unilaterally to make Noah a member of the pack yet I am allowing this to be a decision among all of its members. In a week's time, I will ask not only the immediate family but everyone if they are willing to accept Noah as a member," he proclaimed diplomatically before a lively argument could ensue among family members. This was supposed to be a time of celebration not a time for family disagreements and hurt feelings.

"Well, with all of that serious business being done, I think we should all go join the party," Zev announced, heading for the door from across the room. In no uncertain terms, he declared this family meeting over before his brother could officially do so.

"I wholeheartedly agree with Zev. For once," Connor added, his face twisting into a perplexed expression.

Willie made a hasty exit behind her son following him through the dark halls of the castle to return to the ongoing celebration outside. She watched him run off to join a large group of his peers gathered around one of the multiple bonfires. As for her, she pulled her shawl tighter around her body while veering off in the opposite direction. She was searching for Noah.

Willie inhaled the brisk mountain air scented with pine and wood smoke. For the first time in an extremely long time, she felt free, unfettered by sadness or fear. She did not feel imprisoned by the hopeless, unattainable love that she had continued to chase through the centuries and continued to elude her. Alucard did not dominate her thoughts nor did her heart ache with yearning to be by his side. It was as if the spell cast on her by him had been miraculously been lifted.

Her body had been freed as well, loosed from the constraints of corsets and other tight fitting clothing. Soon after their arrival, she had bathed and traded her traveling clothes for a far more inviting outfit of a multi layered calico skirt and a deep maroon shirt with long flowing sleeves. She strolled aimlessly, halfheartedly searching for Noah while keeping an eye out for Father Anderson. Select members of the group had been tasked with keeping tabs on the priest while pretending to be his friendly and accommodating hosts. With any luck, he had gotten drunk and been tucked into bed hours ago. Noah had been allowed far more freedom, having to endure only the occasional watchful eyes cast his way by a sentinel or elder.

Bonfires blazed lighting up the night sky above with a red glow. Music floated through the air along with numerous voices raised in song. Some of the singing was melodious and pleasing. Others not so much being the droning voices of the hopelessly drunk. Some people formed circles around a fire, dancing hand in hand. In another place, dancers had taken a specific partner, choosing to devote their attention to only a singular person. Children frolicked about as if it were the middle of the day, indulging in games of tag or hide and seek. Other children had decided they were happier with a quieter activity gathering around the storyteller to listen intently to her tale. Smaller children lay asleep on blankets spread on the ground or in the laps of their parents.

Willie finally found Gannon sitting alone at one of the smaller fires on the outer edge of the raucous gaiety where things were quieter and less active. He lay flat on his back, staring up at the sky. The stars could be seen out here because the light from the single small fire near him was not so bright as to block them out.

He too had changed clothing for the more relaxed and colorful garb favored by the gypsies. His baggy black and white striped pants were paired with a bright red poet style shirt. She had teased him all he needed to complete his pirate ensemble was an eye patch.

Willie sat down on the opposite side of the fire from him. The grass remained dry and free of the dampness of the evening dew because of the heat which presently warmed her chilled body. She allowed her shawl to slip from her shoulders down to her elbows while her torso remained ensconced in the thick snow-white wool.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, gazing at him through the flames.

"Everything and nothing all at once. I'm trying to determine what to think. About myself. About you," he admitted, turning his head to look at her. "I must confess that I never really believed that I was werewolf. Honestly, I thought Father Anderson had made it up. The weird fantasy of a fanatical old priest who had finally gone off his rocker."

Willie snickered involuntarily at his frank assessment of the priest's mental state. Until recently, Noah held nothing but the greatest respect for his mentor. His veiled contempt had become unconcealed hatred as their journey progressed. She had no idea what had prompted his change in attitude toward Father Anderson nor did she care. The underlying anger directed at her had blown up and they had worked out their differences. The issue between him and the priest was theirs alone and none of her business.

"When I _felt _those other werewolves, when I met them..." He paused in his attempt to find the correct words. "I _knew..._I knew what he said was true. I'm not sure how to handle this."

"But you're learning more about who you are. That's good. Isn't it?"

"I suppose." He sat up before getting to his feet to walk over to her. He extended his hand toward her, waiting for her to take it.

Willie placed her hand in his to allow him to pull her to her feet in front of him. She studied his face when he stared down at her without saying a word. "What is it?"

"No longer than we've been here, the memories started coming to me again. They're becoming clearer, more vivid in content. From what I've seen, you're a good dancer," he murmured, sliding his hand across her lower back while taking her hand in his to position her in a dancer's stance. "My response has become less visceral and more about comprehending what I see. Your husband was a good dancer too."

"He was," she agreed, pressing her free hand lightly to the hard muscular curve of his shoulder. They began to move in a slow box step to the music of a violin being carried to them on the cold night wind.

"I've decided to incorporate his experience and knowledge into my own to create a truly unique life for myself."

"I think that's a wonderful idea." She smiled up at him when he repositioned her, switching to a more complicated maneuver that included a turn then a dip. A laugh bubbled up from her throat and out of her mouth. "Very nice. I see what you mean about taking his experience as your own."

"Why fight it when it's a part of me? Obviously I can't make it stop so I should make the best of it. Right?"

"I agree. I like this new attitude. You seem to be at peace finally."

"I am. About some things," he added. He stopped moving, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "There are some matters, those of the heart, which I am uncertain will ever be resolved."

Willie held her breath when he lowered his lips toward her. If he wanted to kiss her, she would allow it. Maybe it would be best for him to try a kiss and see that there was nothing there. When his soft lips pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, she inhaled in surprise. Not sure if she should be relieved or disappointed, she lay her head against his chest when he straightened back up and continued to move her around on their natural dance floor made of tall grass that tickled her calves before being trampled under her feet. Her heart beat faster when his big hand pressed to her upper back and flattened between her shoulder blades to encourage her to keep leaning against him.

Soon they were not dancing at all. They stood still by the fire in each others arms. The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the wood while it burned. At this moment in time, neither one wanted or expected anything more than the comforting embrace of a friend.


	35. Chapter 35

Tonight is the night: the night when Noah would bring out the feral wolf within and become a member of the pack. The week of his trial had gone quite well. Almost too well. He had assimilated quite naturally into the gypsy family. Obviously fate had predestined this appointment when it had been so unkind to curse him so cruelly from the start. He had found another family, a place to be accepted and live among his kind. At least that was what Willie thought considering how easily he adapted to the people and they took to him in return.

The young ladies of the gypsy troupe intent on finding a handsome, virile mate approved of him becoming a full-fledged member without hesitation. The elders embraced Noah based on his consistent attitude of respect and kindness in addition to his assisting with any chore without complaining. The children loved him because he took the time to play with them when most of the adults did not. In turn, his willingness to spend time with the rambunctious young, keeping them entertained and out of trouble, won over the parents. Young and old, male and female, there was not a single member of the gypsy tribe whose vote he did not acquire.

However, the immediate family, her sons and daughters by blood or by marriage, were a bit more obstinate. Some tested his wits while others tried his patience in an attempt to get him to show his 'true colors' should he be harboring any evil intent or hiding a secret agenda. Willie was convinced the priest would be the only one guilty of those two crimes. When stubborn attitudes and unfounded biases remained, Willie reminded them that once she and their father were outsiders to this world they held so dear. Also, she was a vampire, the ultimate outcast, but they had willingly adopted her anyway. Not to mention, Gannon was still a human for a time until his full acceptance into the pack. After much deliberation on their part and excellent debating on their mother's, each one of the royal family gave their consent to recognize Noah as an official member of the gypsy tribe and werewolf pack.

Willie walked through the kitchen where final preparations for the feast were being made. Chicken, duck, and venison roasted on spits over open fires. Breads, both sweet and savory, had been baked in copious amounts, their mouth watering, yeasty aroma flooding the air of the castle. Though the smell should be delightful, it sickened her. She preferred blood; raw, rich, and warm straight from the vein. Her eyes drifted over the trays full of dried fruits arranged like works of art. Weaving her way through the myriad of diligently working people, she rushed out the door to the fresh air free of the food aromas that nauseated her.

Several burly men passed by her carrying barrels of wine to be broken open and drained into decanters for ceremonial toasts and general celebratory purposes. A nostalgic smile graced her lips upon recalling how the gypsies loved a celebration. They always found numerous reason to indulge in joyous revelry. An engagement, a wedding, the birth of a child, the death of a loved one; any and every occasion to bring out the food and wine, to laugh and sing and dance. Life was a party. It had to be during the good times. Because when the bad times come, and they always come, they were really bad. Tonight, was a coming out ritual, the most anticipated reason to celebrate: the ceremony when a human experiences their first transformation into a werewolf, reconciling both the nature of man and beast harbored inside of him.

Willie glanced at the group of shirtless men sweating in the sun while chopping wood for the single massive bonfire that would serve as the centerpoint where the ceremony to take place. Noah and Father Anderson were among those men, each one standing at a large stump where a chord of wood stood on one end. With every downward swing of the ax, the men would release a loud grunt of effort, increasing the power of his strike, cleanly slicing the wood into two pieces.

Her eyes lingered over the bulging, flexing muscles in Noah's shoulders and back. How many times had she watched her husband do this same chore? She had appreciated his fine physique, slick with sweat from his labor, shining in the sun like a god. For a moment, time turned back, and she saw the man to whome she had given her life and heart when she thought she had forfeited both because of Vlad. Her hand raised to her chest, flattening over her rapidly beating heart. Ogling the handsome blonde, his resemblance to her dead husband almost made her forget his true identity.

When Noah turned to look at her, his arctic blue eyes latching onto hers, she was immediately thrust back into the present. His eyes were different than Gannon's. Gannon's lupine orbs had lightened to a nearly colorless, striking shade of silver. Those eyes had been able to cut right through her to the deepest part of her being, seizing her heart to hold on tight. This man's eyes, were a shade of blue akin to the ice harbored in the bowels of a great iceberg. They looked cold yet were so warm, so kind. Rather than taking hold of her heart by force, his eyes stroked her emotions tenderly, cajoling her to feel something for him, begging her to love him.

_I can't. I can't, _her mind replied, taking over where her heart threatened to fail her. She shook her head, backing away slowly.

"Willie? Are you all right?" Noah asked, taking one step toward her.

Willie nodded in response to his question but did not speak. After offering him a self-conscious smile on quivering lips, she spun on her heel, her wide orange skirt flaring like an umbrella around her.

"No," Father Anderson murmured, putting out his arm as a physical barricade to stop his apprentice from giving chase when she ran away. "Let her go."

Those three words held a meaning than reached further than allowing her to leave without following.

"Kill those useless feelings, or she will be the end of you, boy," he warned, lowering his arm.

"Yeah, so you've told me before," he rejoined, sliding the man a sidelong glance full of hate and fury.

"When you look at her, you may see a young beautiful woman but that is only a lovely facade to hide the evil, murderous creature lurking beneath. She's a centuries old vampire. A being who is by all rights dead but still lives. She's not a twenty one year old woman. Look at her children if you need further proof to remind yourself."

Noah cast a furtive glimpse at the man standing nearby, her youngest son, who appeared to be a normal man in his early thirties. But he wasn't a normal man. Zev was the product of two supernatural creatures. He was also a werewolf. He must be at least two centuries old himself yet appeared no older than thirty-two, but he still looked older than his mother.

"She's not a monster," Noah muttered under his breath.

"Make no mistake about it," the priest said in a low voice so no one else would hear. "They're monsters. All of them. She is the worst of all of them. You'll see. Just wait, you'll see."

~\\..'../~

Father Alexander Anderson casually sipped his wine as if relaxing in his study at home rather than being in the middle of a raucous celebration. His keen eyes observed the activity around him while he silently and harshly judged the participants. Heathens. Degenerates. Positively revolting. Worse yet, they were animals, monsters from children's nightmares, masquerading as humans. Being witness to this event was like attending a ball in hell.

They drank and danced like they did not expect to live to see tomorrow. Lewdness abounded. They kissed openly, not caring that others were watching. Their dancing consisted of much gyrating and flagrant humping, a repulsive show of sex despite being fully clothed.

Thankfully the children were not allowed at this ceremony. All youngsters were asleep in the castle under the watchful eyes of caregivers to make sure none of them awoke and snuck out to take a peek at the drunken, lust infused revelry.

In the center of it all, the guest of honor, Noah sat between the King of debauchery and the former Queen of all things unholy. Father Anderson would be loathe to admit that she looked particularly fetching in her multi colored skirt made of scarves and a top that was nothing more than several of the scarves twisted together and wound around her neck and breasts. Her braided hair hung thick and heavy down her back with small white flowers weaved throughout. A gorgeous pagan goddess.

He gulped the wine until the liquid filled his cheeks. To keep from spitting any of the inebriating elixir out, he swallowed hard pushing the fluid down his esophagus in one painful swallow. A preemptive prayer of forgiveness followed when a pretty, young, half naked maiden knelt in front of him to refill his cup. Tonight he fully intended to get stinking drunk, willfully committing one trepass of his religious moral code to prevent himself from indulging in another trangression violating his vow of chastity. Why did unrighteous temptations have to be so pretty and sinful acts feel so damn good?

Father Anderson drank heartily, swilling half of his recently refreshed wine supply. The people in his vision swayed in impossible ways, their bodies contorting and shifting. He could not be sure if it was the wine or if they were really going through some of transmogrification. The flames of the singular, humungous bonfire pulsed, its yellow and orange arms reaching higher toward the sky. In that black velvet sky, the white disc of the moon pocked with gray spots shimmied, undulating as if it were a reflection on the ocean. His eyes drifted closed when the ground under his behind pitched and rolled. Earthquake? No. Quicker than expected, he had reached that blessed state of intoxication he had purposely been seeking. All he had to do now was go to sleep. While unconscious, his vow and his scruples would remain safe and inviolate. His selfish desire to escape a sinful snare prevented him from being suspicious that he had been drugged.

~..'..~

Willie watched passively when her sons Rafe and Zev hefted the large, sleeping priest from the ground. She returned her son-in-law Felix's nod when he preceded them while walking to the castle. She noted that in his hand he held the keys to the dungeon cells and the shackles that waited for the priest. Her attention reverted to the nervous young man sitting beside her. Anticipation mixed with anxiety made her belly skitter and jump like something crawled under her skin.

A howl penetrated the festive air fraught with jubilant expectation. Another howl followed. People around them dropped to all fours, raising their faces and voices to the moon. They cried to their lunar goddess floating in the sky, singing her praises and seeking her favor. They implored her blessings to be bestowed upon the man to be initiated into their ranks of the werewolf.

"Do not be afraid," Willie said, laying her hand over his that clutched his knee in his cross legged sitting position.

"I've seen a few things. I can handle this," he assured her. His hand trembled under hers, but his eyes stared straight ahead to watch the transmutation of the humans into werewolves.

The change appeared to be painful. Grunts and whines punctuated the air among the piercing chorus of howls. Their noses lengthened and their jaws enlarged, jutting forward to form a canine muzzle. Their skin changed color, some a raw pink while others darkened to the gray of wood ashes or darker, even black, depending on the color of the fur that sprouted from the follicles. Pointed ears protruded from the fur on their heads and tails extended from the tip of what used to be a human tailbone that no longer bore a tail.

Noah witnessed their otherworldly change in gape mouthed, awestruck wonder. He had never observed the morphing of man to beast. In his limited experience with werewolves, he had only seen the finished product of the transformation, battled the animals with gnashing teeth and murder in their inhuman eyes. Not seeing them as people had made it easy to kill them without feeling guilt. But now...now he would never be able to kill another werewolf without having more justification than a command from Father Anderson. He knew with certainty that his ties with the priest would be severed tonight, that he would begin a new life - the life he was meant to lead all along.

He glanced over at the woman sitting beside him, squeezing his hand tightly to reassure him. At the moment, her strained face and clenched jaw showed that she needed reassurance. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her face so that she would look at him. An ambient green light glimmered under the surface of her hazel irises.

"It's time," she told him. She pulled her hand from his, leaning forward onto her hands until she was on all fours. "Noah, there's something I need to show you."

Noah's jaw tensed when her back arched and terrible black claws grew from her fingers stabbing the soft earth. Astonished and a bit fearful, he stared while a patchwork of black veins appeared under her lovely pale skin. The beautiful woman he knew transformed into a huge, hulking black dog, her eyes red as the blood she required to sustain herself.

"Oh, dear God," he murmured in shock.

"God has nothing to do with this," she growled, her voice barely human; deep, masculine, resonant.

As swiftly as she had shape shifted into the hell hound, she dissolved into a flurry of leathery wings and high pitched shrieks of a thousand bats. The bats formed a whirlwind of noise and activity around him, drawing him to his feet. Her appearance quickly altered again, and she returned to a her normal human visage. For a moment there remained a large set of membranous black wings on her back, then they disappeared to make her fully human again.

"Well, that was something," he murmured, blinking at her.

"I've shown you mine. Now," she said, advancing toward him. Her hands slipped inside the open collar of his shirt, gliding over his smooth youthful skin. "Show me yours."

"What are you doing?" he inquired when she ripped open his shirt revealing his chest.

"You're going to lose the clothes anyway. I'm helping you."

"Are you sure?" His hand brushed over her head, knocking free some of the flowers when his fingers strayed over her braid. Loosing the gardenia blossoms released their fragrance, sweet and heady, overwhelming his senses.

His entire body vibrated with an unusual spiritual energy imparted to him by the lupine brethren surrounding him and strengthened by the sexual arousal being stirred up by the woman in front of him. She confounded and frustrated him. She had insisted on being friends but friends did not act this way. In a way, Father Anderson was right about her. She was evil, but not in the way he had been expecting.

Willie lifted his hands, placing them on her hips. She pressed her body to his, flattening her barely covered breasts to his chest. Turning her head, she allowed her lips to graze his chest. Her tongue protruded slightly, licking over the edge of the brown nipple against the canvas of golden tanned flesh hard with muscle.

"Why?" he whispered, his body shuddering when she pressed a kiss to his chest over his heart.

"I'm helping you," she repeated, placing her hand on the back of his neck. Her eyes locked with his that gleamed in the silver light of the full moon. "Trust me. Trust yourself."

An ethereal heat filled his body as if he were on the verge of spontaneously bursting into flames. He burned and ached, his heated blood rushing through his body. His extremities tingled, prickling with the sensation of being pierced with countless needles. A dull rumble started in his chest, rising, growing stronger, until he opened his mouth to expel a feral growl.

The ritual of urging the first transformation is an intimate encounter involving an elevated state of sexual arousal. Stirring up carnal desire worked better for heightening the senses than instilling fear, the first most basic instinct common in animals and humans. The fight or flight mechanism activated by fear had a tendency to dull some senses while intensifying others. Stimulating the sex drive, however, enhanced all senses; sight, sound, smell, taste, hearing, and touch perked up in unison. Stimulus to these senses in this situation brings physical enjoyment which inevitably deepens the desire for more pleasurable input in turn requiring one to give in completely to that need. Basically, being distracted and horny enabled one to give themselves over to the savage wolf lurking inside. This technique worked for males and females alike.

"Now that I've shown you what I truly am, what do you think of me?" she inquired, her lips sliding back from her teeth to reveal her sharp fangs on top and bottom like those of a wolf. "I warned you that I'm a monster."

"You're like nothing I've ever seen before," he admitted, his eyes holding fast to her face. "But you're not a monster. Why are you doing this?"

"I am a monster. And so are you," she whispered, pulling his mouth down to hers. She kissed him: a tender, innocent, close mouthed kiss, her lips pressing squarely to his. "Bring forth what is inside of you." She kissed him again, this time catching his upper lip between hers. "Release everything."

"I-I c-can't," he stuttered, his fingers pressing into her skin with bruising strength while he fought to restrain himself. Her merciless teasing, gliding her cool velvety fingertips over his chest while suckling at his lower lip chipped away at his resolve like a pickax at an unyielding boulder. Bit by bit, he broke, allowing the animal inside to rise to the surface.

Willie cried out in agony when his nails, sharp and long, pierced her skin. His skin roughened, tiny bumps rising over him, while the color changed from a healthy bronze to a grotesque shade of dark gray. He would be a white wolf, evidenced by the snow colored fur sprouting from his gray skin. Her arms enclosed his body, holding onto him when they fell to the ground, trapping her under him. He lay on top of her, a heavy crushing weight, writhing from the excruciating torture of his transformation. She held on to him despite the suffering he imposed upon her, whispering encouragement to him so he would keep going no matter how the pain increased for both of them.

Eventually the transformation completed. Noah stood above her on all fours, a handsome white wolf with mesmerizing blue eyes. His long pink tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he panted heavily from the struggle of morphing from man to animal.

Willie scooted from under him, moving past the wolves who encircled him. She stood on the outskirts of the clan to allow them to proceed with their official welcome.

A deafening cacophony of howls rose from them announcing and celebrating the arrival of their newest member. Yips and chuffs of approval followed from the wolves who approached him. Head butting and nuzzling along with nips or licks administered to the cheeks showed the new werewolf expressed how proud they were of him.

Willie walked away, feeling the need to distance herself. She did not belong here at the moment. This time belonged to the werewolves, and she had no place here.

~..'..~

Alucard had been searching for her for days. His head ached from the relentless endeavor to track her down by using telepathy. There was something blocking him making him feel as if he was butting his head against a wall. He needed to know that she was all right. He also wanted to make sure she had not gotten any closer to the young man who bore a disturbing likeness to her dead husband.

Her second husband. The husband who failed her because in the end he was still woefully human. Half werewolf, half human but that lingering bit of humanity had been his ultimate undoing. However, that lucky bastard had been able to spend a few hundred uninterrupted years of marital bliss with her, a happy marriage that included children. Despite its relative brevity in light of immortality, Gannon Lupei had been afforded a blissful life with Willie. The life Alucard dreamed of but would never have with her. A long, happy life together would never be a blessing bestowed upon him and his precious Willene.

"Alucard, what's wrong with you?" Arthur Hellsing questioned the vampire sitting in the wing backed chair across from him.

They had adjourned to the study after dinner where the vampire had dropped into one of his trances, retreating to his own inner world to do only he knew what. Arthur had observed him many times before in this state of sending himself to a separate plane of existence while still maintaining his physical presence at the Hellsing manner. Every time he pondered such questions as where did Alucard go, what was he doing, and who was he seeing. Sometimes he wondered what the vampire was feeling because wherever these freaky mind trips took him, they were definitely a full sensory experience.

Lately, Alucard seemed troubled and preoccupied by a goal that eluded him. Each night he searched for something, _someone_, he could not find. That woman? Perhaps Alucard searched for the mysterious and beautiful Willene who Arthur had seen once in his life when he was young. The vampire loved her obsessively.

Presently, Alucard sat in the chair, groaning and sweating with the apparent physical strain. His thin eyebrows drew together over his pointed nose, his forehead folding into numerous wrinkles like an accordion. The endeavor appeared to be draining him body and mind. If he had a soul, that would be taxed as well.

"Alucard? Stop it!" Arthur commanded him when a thin ribbon of blood began to trickle from his nose.

The vampire could not afford to lose any life sustaining blood. He barely subsisted off of blood taken by needles from the few willing donors they found.

"Stop it this instant!" Arthur bellowed, slamming the palm of his hand down on his desk.

"No! I won't!" Alucard answered, opening his eyes. His eyes were like two red glowing coals taken straight from the fires of hell. "I've almost - "

The words died in his throat when he suddenly broke through that invisible wall shielding her presence. The comforting familiarity of touching her psyche instantly soothed his troubled mind before seeping into his tense body. The outline of her body drew itself on his brain. He knew her curves so well. His fingers twitched with the memory of tracing those curves with his hands. Their separation had not been a long but every minute had seemed like an eternity.

"I found her," he breathed, afraid to speak much louder because he did not want the tenuous connection he had fought so hard to make to be broken.

Alucard sighed when her form became a darkened silhouette. The details of her face filled in next like a picture being drawn by an invisible hand. Her familiar features gradually appeared hazy, dream-like at first as if he were viewing her through a filmy screen then coming into sharp focus with vivid color. She stood in a forest, leaning against a tree. Her clothing looked like that of an Arabian belly dancer rather than the layered, body concealing raiment of the gypsies. The ambient green light of her hazel eyes glimmered in the darkness reflecting the light of the moon. She looked sad. Unfortunately, she always looked sad. Her perpetual forlorn state actually enhanced her beauty to him. Mostly because her sorrow arose from her desire to be with him and missing him so desperately.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

"Alucard, don't - " Before Arthur could issue the complete order, the impetuous vampire disappeared so quickly and completely it would be easy to believe he had been a figment of the imagination all along. Arthur sighed in frustration, rubbing his temples in an effort to stave off the headache that exploded behind his eyes. What an infuriatingly disobedient creature. "Dammit, Alucard."

~..'..~

"Miss me?" Alucard asked, taking his corporeal shape in front of her after teleporting across the miles that separated them.

Willie did not act surprised or frightened. Her arms enveloped his slim waist, her face pressing into the white ruffles of his fancy white silk shirt. Perhaps she knew she had gone beyond the borders of the protective enchantment that had hidden her from him.

"Don't ask such a stupidly obvious question," she chastised him, in no mood for his derisive humor.

Alucard used his forefinger to tip up her chin in order to ravage her lips. He kissed her hungrily with violent intensity to convey the depth of his longing. He had missed her terribly. Unaware of his nosebleed, the blood smeared across their lips and penetrated their mouths when his tongue sought hers.

A wildfire of wanton desire raged through Willie's body upon tasting his coppery blood. Her mouth pulled away from his so she could suck in a noisy, wheezing breath.

"Willene," he exhaled in an excited rush upon seeing her eyes. They were positively scintillating, agleam with an inner light that sparked a fire in his cold, dead heart making it beat faster - and it beat just for her.

Her parted lips revealed her needle like fangs designed for blood letting. She was gorgeous; a dark creature of his making and the woman he had loved for centuries. His first vampire, his second wife, his eternal lover, his everything.

"I will never be free of you, will I?" Her words were more of a statement rather than a question.

Alucard chuckled lightly, more out of irony rather than mirth. The question had to be purely rhetorical, but he answered her regardless. "Of course not. You're mine. You've always been mine. You will always be mine."

Willie took hold of his thin but muscular upper arms, the intense gaze from his smoldering eyes burning into her. He still held her prisoner. An ache, pulsating waves of dull agony began in her heart, growing bigger like ever widening circles in water after a pebble has been dropped in. A series of images of the man who put Helena's nail there flowed through her mind. The young friendly priest, his kind green eyes, his sympathetic words, his gentle touched that assisted through her worst sorrows. The stony-hearted religious fanatic, hellbent on pursuing heavenly endeavors to rid the world of his personally perceived evil using his holy blades inscribed with scripture and sanctified with Christian sentiment. Those swords could carve away all things unrighteous and demonic from its human host. He could kill her, severing her immortality. He could set her free from the man standing in front of her. Only one path to freedom lay before her, but that route remained inconceivable.

"Why are you thinking that? Stop it," Alucard hissed, pushing her away.

"You should leave," she told him, turning her back to him.

"What has happened to you?! Who has poisoned your mind this way?!" he demanded to know, yelling at her back while she strode from him with slow, plodding steps.

"You've changed. Is it so impossible for me to change too?"

"I thought you loved me." He hated the own sound of his voice when he said those words. The fretful, imploring tone annoyed him. Only she could make him weak. Perhaps he would be better off without her. However, his heart wanted what it wanted and it had always been set on her. Dozens of other women had had come and gone in his life, wandering through his mind and his bed like stray dreams. But _she _always remained in his heart.

"I do love you. But a heart can only take so much before it breaks and breaks for good. I've told you this," she sighed like the long-suffering lover she is.

"Is this about Noah? Or your children?"

"Both. Losing Gannon was difficult enough. I can't imagine the pain of what it will be like to watch my children die one by one. And Noah, it's like - "

"It's like Gannon has come back into your life. Seeing him die will be like experiencing Gannon's death all over again. I understand."

"Do you?" she challenged, whirling around to look at him.

"I do. There was a woman named Mina Harker," he confessed, studying Willie for an adverse reaction. When she did not react negatively, or in an any way whatsoever, her face remaining passive, emotionless, disappointment blossomed in his chest making it contract around his lungs. He cleared his throat before continuing to speak. "Mina was the spitting image of you. I viewed her as my second chance at the happiness I would never have with you."

Willie visibly flinched, the verbal arrow carefully aimed at her heart striking its mark. Vlad's ability to issue hateful, emotionally damaging comments had carried over to Alucard in spades. She refused to be petty, not reminding him that he had forsaken her for another woman many times before. She had almost been killed while he dallied with another woman which was how she wound up in Gannon's arms in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, she calmly responded, "I suppose you do understand."

Then she smiled; a gracious, tragic smile that perfectly expressed her mixed emotions of eternal love and enduring melancholy. She walked back to him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Just like with you, my love, there may be others, but there will always, _always, _be you. I am yours for an eternity. No matter what."

"Willene," he mumbled, stunned by her conditional pledge. He placed his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her toward him for another savage kiss.

"I love you," she exhaled when their mouths broke apart. She peeled his hand away from the back of her neck and shook out of his loose one armed grip of her shoulders. "Leave. Hurry. Before they know you're here."

She feared there would be a war if he stayed much longer. The wolves would arrive and a dreadful confrontation would be inevitable.

"Until next time, Willene, my love." Alucard vanished without further adieu. He never had been one for long good-byes.

"Until next time," Willie whispered to the empty forest, unsure if there would be a next time.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I must have rewritten this a dozen times. I apologize if I missed any typos or errors. I really struggled with this particular chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!


	36. Chapter 36

Willie walked down the hallway lined on one side by open arches. The last orange-red rays of the dying sun painted the pale sandstone walls an eerie shade of vermilion. She pondered if this is what it would be like strolling through hell. However, here she had found another piece of heaven on earth being with her family again.

She balanced the tray of food on her flat palm, humming merrily on her way to Noah's room. He had slept all day, recovering from the exhausting night of his first transformation. From years of past experience tending to many newly initiated werewolves, she knew he would be ravenous upon awakening.

Pushing down the metal latch with her thumb, she nudged the thick oak door open with toes of her bare foot. She adored the freedom that came with living the gypsy life. There were no corsets to bind her, no societal rules to remember, and no priests to hold her prisoner. Her lips curled into a malevolent little grin. The priest had become the prisoner here.

Willie rolled her eyes and emitted a deep growl sounding like her werewolf comrades. Father Anderson would be waking up soon from the sleeping elixir she had administered to him. She had mixed in a poison as well to keep him unconscious longer. His body would regenerate, healing the damage to his organs. He would require sustenance and water, lots of water, to rid his body of the poison.

But Noah needed her attention first. Her deep exhalation of relief mingled with her humming made the sound loud enough to disturb the sleeping man sprawled out on the bed. Shaking her head like an amused mother, she walked past the grunting man rooting around to find a more comfortable position after being awakened. She set the tray down on the table in front of the window. Continuing her long-suffering mother routine, she opened the windows to allow in the last shards of daylight to illuminate the room in a orange-red glow.

"Ugh, no!" Noah moaned, snatching the pillow from under his head to cover it instead.

"Good evening, sleepyhead," she chirped much more happily than she actually felt. A lingering sadness and raw emotions remained from Alucard's malicious words. "Now that you've slept the day away it's time to get up and get ready to howl at the moon again!"

"I don't want to," he whined like a grumpy child, his voice muffled by his pillow shield.

"Come on. You need to eat and drink," she said, pouring him a cup full of water.

Noah groaned, rolling over onto his opposite side to find a cool spot on the bed in an effort to get comfortable and go back to sleep. The sheet slipped from where it draped over his middle down to his thighs.

Willie turned on her heel to bring the water to him. She knew he must suffering a terrible headache due to dehydration on par with a massive hangover.

"Noah, you must - Oh, my!" she gasped upon seeing his bared backside.

The muscles across his back contracted with the smallest movements while he adjusted himself in search of that perfect position. Hard knots formed under his skin tanned a rich golden color from his days spent in the sun laboring to his part to help out the clan. In contrast, the dual rounds of his behind remained white as the delicate white petals of a lily.

She giggled at the sight despite the disconcerting warmth radiating from deep within her. Before any salacious thoughts could form in her vivid imagination, she scurried to the bed to pull the sheet up to his chest. Pretending to tuck him back in would save them both from unnecessary humiliation while preventing any awkwardness. They had already weathered a long period of discomfort in each other's presence, and she really did not want to go through another.

"Five more minutes then," she said, sitting down on the bed behind him with her back against the headboard. She held the cup clasped between both of her hands in her lap.

Closing her eyes for a few minutes might help her shake off a little of her fatigue as well. She had kept herself busy, staying in constant motion, to keep her mind off of the painful interaction that had taken place between her and Alucard. She tried to convince herself he still loved her despite those few vindictive words. After all these years, common sense would not allow her to deceive herself so easily. Finally, she was beginning to see him how others saw him.

Father Anderson had asked her many times how she could love a man like Vlad. The question had been terribly offensive. In the past, when he was young, she viewed his question as being spoken out of ignorance. He was a naive priest who knew nothing about love in general or her and Vlad specifically. However, after a century or two, he certainly knew enough to ask that question. Gannon had saved her from that destructive kind of love once, then he was gone and she allowed it back in. Was it love or obsession? Did it matter? Maybe she should decide to save herself this time.

"Willie?" Noah called to her before she could drift off to sleep.

The bed shifted under her when he rolled over to face her.

"Willie," he called again, poking her in the thigh with a forefinger.

"Hmm?" she groaned, gradually opening her heavy eyelids.

"Were you asleep?"

"No."

Willie looked down at him. His big blue eyes were searching her face. Apparently, her melancholy was written all over it. She saw her sadness mirrored in his luminescent irises. He had an amazing capacity for empathy. Her fingers drifted over his cheek while he continued to stare at her.

"Why are you sad?" he inquired without giving her the chance to deny the emotion.

"Hmmm," she hummed, blinking slowly to break the intense contact of his gaze. His eyes were changing. That usually happened after the morphing. They were brighter than usual as if liquid silver had been mixed into the color."You're eyes are beautiful. You're getting your wolf eyes."

"You're ignoring my question," he rejoined, sitting up next to her.

"It's nothing new. I've been through this before. I'll be all right," she assured him. Remembering the cup in her hand, she held it out to him. "Here. You need this."

"Thank you," he said, emptying the cup of it's contents. "More, please?"

"Of course," she responded, taking the cup from him. She eased off the bed to go to the table and refill it from the pitcher.

"So what did Alucard do to hurt you this time?" His eyes met hers briefly when she gave him the replenished cup. "He found you, didn't he?"

She turned away quickly to face the window. The sun had set. A cool wind heralding in the night blew softly through the window. Her skin raised into goose bumps from the gentle caress of the wind across her bare shoulders. She was wearing a simple light blue cotton dress that skimmed her curves and tied behind her neck.

"I like that dress. I've never seen it before."

"Feya made it for me." She welcomed the banal question to avoid speaking anymore about Alucard. The only person she hated discussing Alucard with more than Noah was Father Anderson.

"I have one more question to ask about Alucard," he warned her.

"All right," she exhaled heavily. "Go ahead. Ask it."

"Is your family, including the whole clan, in any danger from him?" He stood next to her, filling his own cup this time.

"No. Not from him. Father Anderson poses more of a danger to them than Alucard," she replied pointedly.

"That is why he's locked in the dungeon. Correct?"

"Yes."

"What do we do with him now?"

"I don't know," Willie sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs positioned at the table. "I suppose I should return to England with him. I can keep him busy chasing after Alucard. I should be the one to help take care of that problem anyway."

Noah sat in the chair across from her, holding the sheet around his body to keep himself covered. He pulled the tray loaded with food over to him, grabbing the whole chicken with both hands. Taking large mouthfuls, barely chewing, he ripped into the roasted meat like the feral animal he harbored within. When he realized she was staring at him, gape mouthed in astonishment, he carefully put down the chicken he had reduced to a bony carcass. He gingerly wiped hands on the sheet as if it were an oversized napkin.

"I'm glad I brought a lot. Eat up," she encouraged him, giving him a smile. "Let me ask you a question...you've decided to stay here then? To stay with the pack?"

"Mm-hmm," he grunted around a mouthful of shredded roast venison. "I have. Why would I leave when I've finally found where I belong?" He paused for a moment, watching her while she visibly fought some internal war he could not comprehend. "You want to stay. So why not stay? With your family. And with me?"

"Gannon - "

"Willie, don't call me that."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, staring at her hands twisting nervously in her lap while shame colored her face a deep shade of crimson. "You just remind me so much of him."

"Does it hurt? Look at me, Willie, I need to know," he stated forcefully, immediately drawing the attention from her he had commanded. "Does it hurt when you look at me? Does it hurt to be near me when I'm a constant reminder of him? Is that why you refuse to love me? Is that why you won't stay here?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice a mere whisper. Her eyes moved back and forth to avoid direct contact with his.

"Yes, to which question?"

"Yes, it hurts. Yes, you are a constant reminder of him. And yes, that is why I refuse to love you. I can't - " She paused, inhaling deeply to steady her voice warbling with emotion. "Every moment with you is sheer torture because I _want_ to love you. But, I want to love you as him, as Gannon Lupei not Noah Landon. I don't want to do that. It's not fair to you."

Noah's face hardened, his features turning into sharp ridges and angles of anger and hurt. The tiny muscles at the corners of his jaw worked spasmodically under the skin stretched tightly over his strained features.

"If I'm the reason you won't stay with your family, then I should be the one to go. I'll return with Father Anderson. You should stay here," he said, poking at the food. His appetite had quickly fled after hearing her confession. Although he already knew the truth of everything she had said, hearing the words aloud made it impossible to ignore it any longer.

"No, Noah." She reached across the table to grasp his hand. When his silvery blue eyes met hers they were full of rage induced by his aching heart. She immediately withdrew her hands from his. "You should stay here. _You _belong here. I'm not a werewolf."

"But you're a gypsy. You were their Queen and now you're the mother of the King. Your family is here. You belong here more than I do," he argued keeping his voice low but not preventing it from shaking from his barely contained emotions.

"Noah, I'll go. I'll be the one to escort Father Anderson back to England. I need to be there to help him deal with Alucard." She stood up from her chair to go to him. Despite his lethal glare, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head to her chest to embrace him. "I love you, Noah. I'm so sorry things can't be different. I have to go. You should stay. You need them."

"I need you," he mumbled, turning his head to bury his face between her barely covered breasts.

"You don't need me," she murmured, running her fingers through his super short, silky soft hair.

"I want you," he admitted, placing his hands on her hips.

"We shouldn't do this, Noah." She placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing him away gently. Leaning down, she placed a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. "Find someone and love her with all of your heart. I will be selfish by asking this one thing: never forget me."

He stroked her cheek before pulling her down to kiss the soft skin there. "I couldn't, even if I tried."

~\\..'../~

An angry roar like that of a ferocious, mythical dragon erupted from the dungeon. Deep inside the bowels of the castle. the priest raged loudly upon awakening. Rising to his knees, unable to stand, he pulled at the heavy chains tethering him to the wall behind him. The massive iron shackles cut into his wrists each time he jerked at his restraints. He strained to get free, his muscles bulging, thick ropy veins rising to the surface under his skin. He continued to yank uselessly at the massive chains while yelling to vent his fury. Sweat trickled down his face and bare chest, mixing with the dirt covering his body from the hard packed floor of his cell. His fatigued muscles quivered with weakness. He plopped back down on his behind, pressing his back against the cold, damp stones behind him. His chest rose and fell laboriously from his pointless efforts. His panting was the only sound disturbing the quiet, moldy air which was otherwise dank and still.

The last thing Father Anderson remembered was falling asleep at the lupine emerging ceremony. No, he didn't fall asleep. He had passed out. He had been given a sleeping drug. Dammit! His lips slid into a sideways smirk which held the smallest degree of admiration mixed with a large amount resentment for her highness's craftiness and deception. She had learned from the best after all. Vlad Tepes had won wars and spread his empire, conquering kingdoms and innumerable women, using his beguiling, tricky wits.

The only article of clothing covering his body was his pants. His glasses were gone which mattered little since the darkness here bordered on being a black hole sucking in all light and sound. His whole body ached. The pulsing of deep tissue bruises covered his limbs. The distinct crack and flaking sensation of dried blood skipped across the nerve endings in his face and lips. Breathing caused burning agony in his lungs and abdomen. Apparently, despite being drugged and unconscious, he had not come to the dungeon easily or willingly. They had stripped him and beat him, forcing him into submission so he could be put in irons to tether him to the wall. Only one question remained at this time: what did they plan to do with him?

Anderson's throbbing fingers curled into fists. He raised his face to the ceiling looming somewhere above him in the vacant blackness. His mouth opened to release his ire in an animalistic bellow. He was incensed, humiliated, and offended, to say the least, and those damn dogs were going to hear about it. He would howl at them like they howled at the moon.

A light, a small yellow flame, appeared in the immeasurable distance lying in front of him beyond the foreboding iron bars holding him prisoner - as if the shackles were not enough to keep him in place. The tiny fire grew bigger, a ball of flames appearing to float in the air. At last his eyes adjusted to the light blinding him despite its diminutive size. A torch. A torch being carried by none other than Her Highness. This time, she carried a torch for him.

A sly smile tilted his lips again. At least his Countess had the good sense not to underestimate him. Her intelligence to take him seriously impressed him. She really had become a better woman than he expected. If only she could let go of the cad who had become the nefarious Alucard. Vlad Tepes, Count Dracula, Alucard: a monster by any other name is still a monster. If she could get him out of her heart, she could become something better than this. If he could rid her of the memory of Alucard, he might be able to save her at last.

"I know what you're thinking. It will never happen. You can't save me," Willene said, her voice as cold, hard as the stones cutting into his back.

He found her icy tone disturbing considering her voice usually held such warmth and kindness, even for him. She placed the torch in the holder built into the wall outside of his cell. Next she produced a set of medieval looking iron keys from somewhere under the red shawl that slipped from her bare shoulder. She held a tray of food in her other hand which prevented her from pulling the covering back up. The huge door swung open without a sound. No squeaking or squawking of old rusted hinges. The soil and air around him might have existed from the beginning of the time but the dungeon which held him seemed fairly new.

"You've been crying, my dear," he answered, his eyes remaining on her with steadfast interest while she entered the cell with the food. His stomach growled in anticipation when the scent of fresh baked bread, roasted meat, and a soup made of vegetables filled his nostrils.

"So what if I have, Father?" she snapped defensively, setting the tray down on the floor beside him where he sat cross legged.

"How can you love a man who has made you cry so many tears? Who has hurt you so profoundly, time and time again?" His eyes followed her path back to the door which she pulled closed. He did not understand why she would be trapping herself inside the iron cage with him.

"Are we really going to have this conversation again?" she sighed.

She had been crying but not over Alucard this time. She reached through the bars, twisting the key to secure the door before flinging the keys away down the corridor lined by more cells no doubt.

"Why do you care?" she snapped, pulling up the hand knitted wool shawl to cover her bare ivory shoulders while she approached him.

"I've always cared about you, your Highness."

"You have an odd way of showing it."

"And your beloved vampire, doesn't?" he rejoined snidely.

"I'm sure you're hungry. Eat," she ordered him sharply. She flatly refused to address his remark. It had never been his place to judge her on who she loved or how she loved yet he had always openly expressed his opinion about the subject.

Alexander Anderson leaned back on the stone wall behind him in a feigned act of casual submission. Grasping the slack chain in his hand, he held it against his thigh. Waiting. Patiently waiting for her to approach him. When she came within two feet of him, her arms crossed under her breasts and her luminescent green eyes fixed on his face in a hard glare, he swung the weighty chain, throwing it over her head. The sudden, unexpected impact of the heavy iron links pushed her down to her knees. Before she could react, he jerked her forward, dragging her across the dirt floor of his cell. His wrist rotated swing the chain around her head to encircle her neck. He pulled her against him, sitting her in his lap to choke the life out of her. Pushing his chin into her shoulder to gain a little leverage, he tightened the chains around her neck. The pulsating of her carotid artery vibrated through the metal, traveling into his body. His entire body began to tremble from the impulses when her heart beat faster in an attempt to make her react, to fight, to want to breathe.

Instead, she lay in his arms like a limp rag-doll without offering the slightest resistance. Her eyes started to bulge so she closed them. Her mouth opened in a futile attempt to pull in air. She made a desperate, pitiful sucking noise which sounded more like a slow air leak rather then her desire to inhale. Her head lolled to the side, her forehead pressing against his grimy, sweat streaked neck.

"I could kill you. I _should _kill you," he growled through his clenched teeth. The chain clinked when he shook it trying to elicit a reaction. "Won't you at least fight for your life? Just a little?"

Her fingers clawed at her neck in an effort to grasp the chain. In the process to clutch the iron ligature choking her, she scratched the skin under her chin and on her neck until bloody lines appeared. The wetness of her blood allowed her fingers to slide under the chain, finally getting a grip a on it. She pulled, her legs kicking frantically while she exuded the force required to break the sturdy links. Several links broke with a metallic pop rattling to the floor in pieces. Her body fell forward, until she was on all fours coughing and struggling to catch her breath.

"You love me like he does. By hurting me," she accused in a raspy whisper.

"Hmph," he scoffed not appreciating being compared with Alucard.

Willie sat up into a kneeling position, straightening the shawl about her shoulders. She did not seem to notice the dirt smudging her face and dress or that her hair had loosened from it's tidy braid. She also appeared oblivious to the fact that the man who attacked her had had been freed from the wall, the chains dangling from the shackles on his wrists. Perhaps she did not care. Something weighed on her mind, and it showed on her face by the way her brows furrowed.

"One of your life's goals, one of the the main objectives you live for, is to destroy Alucard. Am I correct?" she asked, taking him by surprise.

Alexander Anderson blinked in the confusion at the woman sitting placidly in front of him. To say that he found her question unexpected would be a gross understatement.

"Besides, salvaging what's left of your soul? Yes, that's my goal. Why do you ask?"

"I will help you accomplish that goal."

"Why?" he inquired, suspicious of her motivation.

Willie sighed, loud and long, closing her eyes briefly as if gathering her thoughts. She placed her hand on her chest over her heart, opening her eyes to meet his.

"This thing you put inside of me, it made me just a little bit more human than I would otherwise be, didn't it?"

"Yes. Helena's nail restored a bit of your soul, your humanity, your mortality. That nail enabled you to bear your children because it restored that important part of you."

"Well, thank you for that, Father Anderson," she rejoined, sincere in her gratitude. "My children mean everything to me. But did you ever stop to consider what it would be like for me to have to watch them die? I had to watch my husband die. It was horrible. I've never hurt so much in my life. Not even from Alucard. I don't think I can bear watching my children die." She moved closer to him, pressing her open palms to his chest. Her eyes filled with tears as they scanned back and forth across his face.

"I never considered how much that would hurt you. I never thought - " His words died away in his throat.

"What you have done to me is far worse than anything Alucard ever has."

Father Anderson smiled at her; a sad smile full of irony and doubt. Seeing her so sad, so tortured, made him sad. He pitied her which had driven him to put Helena's nail in her in the first place. How could he have possibly hurt her worse than Alucard? His doubts stemmed from his decision to try to save her. He ran his fingers through her disheveled hair smoothing it down against her head. His hand clasped the back of her neck, pulling her forward to kiss her forehead.

"Is it? Is what I've done to you really worse?" he questioned her, holding her gaze. "I helped you find joy in what would have been an otherwise bleak and miserable existence full of pain and suffering. You experienced more love and happiness in those moments with Gannon and your children than you ever would have had otherwise. Why do you think I introduced you to Noah? I wanted to give you a chance at happiness again."

"Alexander," she whispered, daring to use his first name. She was drawing on an extremely familiar tie between them which existed a very long time ago. In those dark times of another lifetime when she endured the loss of her children with Vlad, a time when she called him a dear friend, he had allowed her to refer to him by his first name to deepen their bond while assuaging her grief. "Does Helena's nail make it possible to kill me?"

Something close to fear rippled across his facial features but the emotion stopped short before materializing in his eyes for her to read it correctly. The desperation in her eyes warranted a truthful response from him.

"Why yes, I suppose. I could place a mark on you, binding your powers. Then I could end your life with my Blessed Blades. But - " His words ceased when he realized what she had in mind. He took her face between his hands when tears rolled from her eyes and down her cheeks creating muddy trails through the dirt. "My dear lady, you can't mean to ask me to kill you."

She planned to use herself as bait, to lure Alucard into a trap where he could watch her die. Crushed and broken-hearted, he would be easy prey for the priest. She was perhaps the only person Vlad Tepes had ever loved. She hoped she had become the only being the vampire Alucard loved.

"All of your life, you've always wanted to do the right thing, Alexander, but you sometimes go about it in all the wrong ways. I think perhaps I've picked up your bad habits."

"But why?" he breathed, his chest constricting. "Why like this? There has to be a different way."

In a soft voice, tempered with the tranquil resolve of having committed herself to the fate she had chosen, Willie said, "I'm being selfish, Father. I want to die to save myself from anymore pain. I watched my husband die. I held him as the last breath left his body. I've never wanted to die so badly in my life before. And I couldn't."

Father Anderson gulped to swallow back the emotion welling inside of him. His eyes studied her face, watching the creases of tension across her forehead gradually relax until her skin lay smooth and perfect. Fresh tears shone in her eyes, reflecting the muted torchlight before they slid from the corners to glide down the filthy trails already carved through the smudges on her cheeks.

"I can't bear to watch my children die. It's not fair, and it's not right, that I should live on when their lives end. I can't watch Noah die. It would be like experiencing Gannon's death all over again. I want to end this. I need to end this unnatural, grotesque existence of mine. People - " Her voice faltered and she inhaled sharply to rein her emotions back in before she lost control. A smile touched her quivering lips. "You're right, Father. Creatures like me shouldn't exist."

"Countess," he murmured, closing his eyes so as not to look at her any longer. It hurt too much.

"Please don't deny me this request. If you care for me, if you love me at all like you say you do, prove your friendship and kill me. Please..."

For a long moment, Father Anderson sat still, stunned into muteness. At last, he responded weakly, "I will do as you ask."

"Thank you," she whispered, standing up to leave.

"Why are you thanking me? You just asked me to kill you."

At the door, she turned back to look at him. Her body began to dissolve into black smoke from her feet up to enable her to leave the cell. She had carelessly flung the key away earlier for a reason the priest could not imagine. Perhaps she had expected him to kill her at this time and did not want to give him an easy way out of this dungeon. Before her face disappeared, she smiled one of her melancholy grins he knew so well. She had tried to be happy, and for remarkable but brief moments in her long history, she had experienced joy beyond her imagination. Unfortunately, tragedy and misery had been a pervasive force throughout the many centuries. Her immortality haunted her, making sorrow her constant companion. And it all came back to one person: Vlad Dracul III. She planned to end him and end her life, setting things to how they should have been all along.

"I'm thanking you because you were merciful and said yes."


End file.
